


Night Shift

by Rowan (brilliantrouble)



Series: The Jedi & The Mandalorian [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Fanfiction, Jedi Clones (Star Wars), Jedi Code (Star Wars), Jedi Culture Respected, Jedi Temple (Star Wars), Jedi Training (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), References to Depression, References to the Jedi Council (Star Wars), Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 34,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantrouble/pseuds/Rowan
Summary: When an ancient distress beacon is activated at a long-abandoned, war torn Jedi stronghold, the fate of one Jedi, long-slumbered in a cryo-tank, is at risk from more than just exposure. A young Imperial Intelligence officer, charged with searching communication traffic in the system stumbles onto it, but so does Bounty Hunter Din Djarin.Who will be first -- the Empire or the Mandalorian?
Series: The Jedi & The Mandalorian [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073288
Comments: 24
Kudos: 104





	1. Sleeplessness

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the events of the Finale of S2 of the Mandalorian television series. Addendum: This will blend Legends & The Mandalorian Because I have feelings about both and grew up on the Legend books. Maybe AU Legend/Mandalorian, here, since we have to wait a year for new canon.
> 
>  **28/12/2020:** [The Jedi & The Mandalorian](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLExpvVzriHgIPZIQJOlhoY5a23lHQ2leZ) soundtrack.
> 
> Kudo and comment if you're enjoying! I will totally respond because I love getting chatty. <3
> 
> ~xxx  
> R.W. Winters

_With a long slumber, there is the promise of a new dawn._

There is nothing but time and darkness in the iced-over cold-sleep tank jammed into a secret sub-basement of an old abandoned Jedi stronghold. Or what once was one many years ago. Time has turned it into an abandoned mess; moss, trees, strangely bioluminescent flora, and things that creep and crawl transforming it into something alien. The flora has all but covered the still functional sleep tank which is camouflaged by tangled vines that cover the blinking lights that indicate the lifeform inside is viable.  
  
So many, many years later, the Clone Wars ended, Order 66 carried out, the Rebel Alliance winning the war and scattering the Empire has all but made any rescue attempt for this one sleep tank nigh impossible. But in the wash of communications traffic, twenty-four hours prior, was a softly whining distress beacon. It was not the Alliance but _Jedi_ , old codes that haven’t been used since the days of Ben Kenobi. But they’re there for the keen ear.  
  
Soft crackling sounds as the roots finally succeeded in squeezing metal and plasglass to their breaking point and hiss of air was heard along with an alarm. The bass of it escalated into a high pitched whine, carried away by the screaming winds of a winter storm.

Arha Masaari, Jedi Knight, was running out of time.

**-*-**

“Space him.” Bo-Katan leaned forward, her eyes hard, her arms crossed. “Space him like the kriffing Bantha-shit he is.” There was nothing particularly reassuring about how her expression seemed to spit the firey hatred she held for Moff Gideon up from the pits of her soul, Din thought. A touch of worry went with it and his hands clenched, making the leather crinkle. If she successfully won this argument after that man had almost killed himself, they would lose valuable intelligence to the void.

Not the best of ideas. There was a reason he’d brought the man back alive. Bo-Katan had wanted it and now he knew why. The darksaber he still had in his possession was a _weight_. What was he supposed to do with it now? He couldn’t give it to the woman, she had to win it and that was playing havoc with everything right now, including the desperate looks the woman slid in his direction.

“He’s much more useful alive,” Fett said, as if anything he said was the least bit interesting to the Mandalorian woman. She had made that clear ages ago.

“The man has intelligence crammed into his head all the way through the next system, Bo-Katan. Come on, you can’t really be suggesting we boot him out the airlock. The Republic needs that intel.” If anyone knew how much the Republic wanted Gideon, it was Cara Dune, who hefted her gun again, prodding the former menace in his back.

Din, still combating the loss of Grogu, breathed in through his nose and put his helmet back on, the shine of it reflecting the scene of foe and allies alike. Gideon wore a piteous look of resignation to whatever his fate might be. He was no Jedi but he was a dick and deserved everything coming his way for all the crimes he had visited upon every soul to cross his hands.

Especially Grogu.

 _Especially his son._ Bound in manacles, tortured with delight, blood taken from him, _stolen_. 

“Give him to the Republic,” Din finally said, his voice quiet amongst the bickering that had gone on minutes without him. “You kill him, he becomes a martyr for the Empire. You give him to the Republic, he becomes intelligence. I’d…I’d rather he be used for some good.”

It felt like the most he’d ever said at once.

“Let’s go.”

He didn’t want to be here where the loss of Grogu would weigh on him any longer. He knew it would follow him, haunt him even if he knew, he _knew_ the kid was okay. 

Luke Skywalker would take care of him.

He dipped his head at the ache in his heart but it was true. Grogu was safe. The galaxy had _hope_ again in the talents of that child and in Luke helping him to gain control over those incredible talents of his.

It would be alright.

It _had_ to be alright.

-*-

Gideon, with a look of pure fury, went into Carbonite at the first opportunity. Bo-Katan, her face mirroring his, looked on, her vengeance unquenched and when it was done, she spun on her heel and left. Din was about ninety-nine percent sure when he next saw her, there was going to be more than a scuffle involved.

He hated it already.

With a passion.

“I need a ship,” he said to Fett. “Drop me off?”

“Sure, anywhere you can get one or you have somewhere specific in mind?” 

Din paused, thinking, his frown hidden by his helmet.

“You’re going to Coruscant anyway. I might as well go there, so just…” He sighed, tinny through the synth. “Wake me when we get there.”

Fett grunted, the conversation finished as Din moved into the back of the ship where the bunks were.

He didn’t sleep. 

All he could do was stare up at the ceiling, every part of him roaring at Grogu’s absence. They were Clan, he and the kid but his duty to him, that was finished. It was _done_ , so why did it feel as if his heart had been sundered by his absence? He shivered in his armor, hissing a little as he tried to find a comfortable position. He had slept on far more uncomfortable surfaces before but sleep was impossible.

True sleep, at least.

Maybe he dozed here and there, waking up to check on Grogu only to realise the kid wasn’t there. It was like living a nightmare, forcing himself to fight the flare protectiveness, his heart roaring in his ears before he gradually calmed down. He was fine, with a Jedi. He was _fine_ with a Jedi. He had to grow up, to come into his powers fully, that’s all, and Din would see him again. They would always be Clan, in a way, a clan of two.

Clan Djarin, signet Mudhorn.

It was the Way.


	2. The Wastes of the Mind's Eye

_A lesson in stillness, learned._

In cryosleep, one wasn’t supposed to dream. But here she was, her long golden-red hair caught by the wind, her blue eyes watching the red ocean wash ashore, with her bare feet against the cold white sand. 

It didn’t feel like a dream.

It didn’t feel like a nightmare, either, it just _was_ in the way life always was. Present. Clear. She breathed in and the air was briny, the salt of it a bright tang against her tongue, cold and crisp. The sand’s coldness soaked into her feet, the sensation sharp and numbing. The wind was cold, too, pulling feeling from her cheeks, tugging at her hair, tangling it. 

There was no one here to turn to, no help but the presence of the Force, which she sensed, as always, around her. It buoyed her as if giving her that sense of comfort she needed. Arha Masaari held onto it, curling into it with a mental sigh. 

The cold eased, the wind died down, the realism did not fade. It stayed and she walked the beach with determination. Part of her wanted to let go, to become one with the Force but a larger part of her fought to survive.

It wasn’t time to let go.

Not yet.

She still had a long ways to go, even if part of it had been in a long, long sleep — had, as if part of her was awake even now but still in slumber. Arha stopped short at the piercing cry of a bird and shivered.

She had been cold plenty of times before, wrapping herself in the warmth of the Force had usually quelled that. Cold planets were nothing new, she had already fled to more than a few in her run from the Empire. This one, even if it was in her dreams was nothing she couldn’t handle. 

Her breath came in billows of steam.

Right.

Time for a distraction.

The Force seemed to soothe her from all sides, life pulsing quietly in reassurance. Oh, Light, she was so cold. Arha rubbed at her shoulders, walking away from the red-stained ocean, ignoring her sore feet and wind-chapped lips.

-*-

“Hello Master Yoda!” Her voice was soft but high as she stood before Yoda, Jedi Master, her face breaking out into the pure, simple joy of a child who saw and _loved_. 

“Hrrm? Young enough yet, this one is. In the Force, such joy. Flexible her mind is. Hrm, yes.” He shuffled off his chair with surprising grace and stood no taller than she. Her bright blue eyes found his brown ones and she smiled even wider.

“ _Arha_ you are, mm?” He tapped his cane at her feet. “Youngling, your age, you are? Know this do you?”

She held up a finger and then two more. Her brow furrowed and then she held up another and her thumb.

“I _think_ ,” she said. “Master Masaari found me. He said I was three when he found me but I have been here two more years.” Distracted, she added, “You are a very pretty shade of green, Master.”

Yoda laughed, which made her laugh, too. They both stood there, sharing joy in a moment of silliness until Yoda finally restrained himself. Arha snort-giggled and it almost undid the Jedi once more.

“Hrm, hrm.” He regained himself with another soft _mmm_. “Young one, for the compliment, thank you I must. With me walk, come. To the Gardens we shall go. See what of the Force you sense, we must. Come, come.”

“Master,” she said as she followed him, “the Force is pretty. Everything I see is shaped by it.”

“ _Yes_ ,” the Jedi murmured. “Yes. Right you are! Tell me of the Force. See of it, what do you? Shapes? Light? Colour? Feel it do you, all around? When you only look closely? _Mmm?_ ”

“Always, Master. Shapes and lines, colours and light. Sometimes weaker, some stronger but it’s always there. I don’t mean to be… _flattering_ but it’s very bright with you, very blue.” She was pretty sure she loved his cane as he tap, tapped it against the flooring. Who wouldn’t love such a perfect bit of wood? It was lovely.

 _Hrm_ _,_ _hrm_ went Yoda and they walked in silence for a while. Her whisper made him look up.

“Why is Master Windu so loud?” she said making the whisper seem even smaller. Mace Windu, indeed, was crossing the courtyard. Yoda glanced at her for a long moment.

“Filled much with the Force he is,” the Jedi said with some amusement. “Frighten you, does he?”

“No!” she said, scandalized. “He’s…he’s just yelling all the time, even when he isn’t. His blue is more purple. Yelly purple.” She turned her head away from the other master, wincing, and Yoda stopped to put a hand on her wrist.

“Calm, Youngling. Calm you must be. Your thoughts, slow them. Alright it is. Hmm. Easy you must be. Harm you not he will. To the Force you are sensitive, yes.”

“I’m alright,” she said, sniffling a little. “He’s just so bright, Master.” Her fingers curled against his wrist for a moment and then reluctantly let go.

Yoda sighed and gestured to the child.

“For this, too old am I,” he reflected, “but with me you shall go. The Gardens, perhaps we shall not see. Quiet a place we must have. Yes? _Mmmr_ _?_ ”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, her eyes as round as saucers. He patted her hand gently. “Quiet is really nice.”

“A place to begin,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “Shielding you have been taught, mm? More we must learn. Progress you will make, in time.”

She was so eager, so willing to learn, that she sat with the diminutive Master for hours, then had tea and a bit of restorative soup, and sat hours more. The Force shone like a light and kept her focused, her enjoyment never really waning. Eventually, Master Yoda held up a clawed hand.

He was _pleased_.

“Well you have done this evening, Youngling. To the Council, with much discussion I must go. Rest first. Sleep here you may. A blanket and pillow will I fetch.”

Cross-legged, she sat, wonderment suffusing her bright blue eyes as Master Yoda clicked his way to the pod’s door. It slid with a _whoosh_ and he stepped out.


	3. Unintended Diversions

_The mind wanders to the places of the soul best avoided._

Din stood awkwardly staring at the ships lined up for each buyer to inspect feeling as if he were betraying an old friend. A dead friend, a very close dead friend. The _Razor Crest_ was gone, smashed into nothing but fine scraps, the beskar arrow and Grogu’s favourite bauble the only evidence she’d gotten them through anything at all. He wanted to shake himself into oblivion at her death but—

It had to be done.

He had to have a new ship, that was the end of it. There was zero part in there where he had time to sit here and get misty-eyed over the loss of his home. Like a hermit crab, he had to find himself another house and not be a wreck when he slipped into it. Cara stood to his left giving him looks.

“Sure you’re okay?” she asked, folding her muscular arms across her chest and giving him what he was pretty sure was a concerned look. She was smiling a little, just the barest bit. In sympathy? Krif, if anyone knew about losing their home, she would. It was written on her face, on the very root of her and it came up and up again, wounding her any chance it could. She’d probably murder him if he said anything about it, though.

“I’m fine,” he said, his synth rolling the words around in his mouth. It tasted of beskar and regret. Din drew a breath in and let it out very slowly. “I just need to inspect these last few bays and make a choice.”

She didn’t believe him _at all_.

Look, he was doing his best. His son had gone off to become a Jedi, his home had been smashed, his covert scattered. It was a _lot_ to deal with. 

He’d survive.

And somehow he’d been handed the darksaber in a fight that was starting to form a rift in his people already. Kriffing Bo-Katan could have said _don’t fight him, that’s my job_. But she hadn’t, had she? His hands clenched and unclenched as he picked a transport and boarded a craft.

Cara Dune waved at him from the window and flashed a thumbs up. He wasn’t going to buy this ship. It was way too sleek. To pretty. Too new. He needed to feel the weight of history on it, a ship that had seen its share of action but wasn’t derelict. Like a place you’d call home, he’d know her when he saw her. Some places were like that.

Like the _Razor Crest_.

-*-

Fennec Shand, Boba Fett, and Cara met him much, much later in the evening. He still hadn’t found the right ship but there were another few bays to go through. He waved off the barkeep who was hassling him for a drink order and sat.

“So?” Cara said, folding her gloved hands before her. “C’mon, really? It’s a—” She stopped herself and held up a hand. “Sorry. You’ll figure it out soon enough. Hopefully. Going bigger?”

“Maybe,” he shifted uneasily and Fennec’s eyebrow arched. 

“Same size as the _Crest_?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“Leave the man alone,” Boba said a beat later surprising the shit out of Din. “He’ll make up his mind when he makes it up. Nothing you say is going to help him with this matter.”

Din nodded slightly, giving the Bounty Hunter all the thanks he could need in a small motion. The last thing he needed was for those two to start in on him. He didn’t mind Cara’s ribbings all that much but Fennec Shard was another matter, not that she was ribbing him at all. The reminder left him smarting a little but he gave no indication and hadn’t needed Fett sticking up for him _that_ much. 

Mostly, he was exhausted. Emotionally, physically. If he could just _sleep_ he would get himself together and push off in this new direction. Not the shitty excuse for staggering into his rented room, collapsing on the bed, only to wake and sleep in fits and starts. He dreamt about Grogu often and in peril. He tossed and turned, shuddering in his sleep, finally waking only to sit at the edge of his bed cursed with insomnia.

This was a bad way to start out on a new path, that was for sure. He glanced through his T-visor at the assembled and very slowly made himself ease out of the sharply locked posture that made his shoulders burn. Even here, he felt hunted.

Haunted, too.

There were a million places he’d rather be than on Coruscant but at least it was an out of the way bar and he had a blaster that felt as comfortable as the beskar he wore. In a way, seedy places like this were his home, too. He’d pulled many a mark out of places like this without a thought. Then again, eventually, when you got as skilled as he was at hunting vermin down, you got to learn how they thought, how they moved. 

How they used the room around them, too.

It was hard-wired in him now and it had been for a while. Violence but not anger, he thought as Cara began talking about something he wasn’t invested in. 

He was thinking about the child again. He would always be thinking about Grogu. For such a child to be brought up to witness such violence and hatred— Din leaned back and swallowed. Would that no child saw such things until they were much older but it was much too late for things like that. Again, he told himself that Skywalker would give his son the best training a Jedi could give him.

“I’m heading back,” Din said after a pause in the conversation. He offered no explanation and he didn’t owe one. He just left. It wasn’t rude and he didn’t have to think about it if it was. He needed the quiet.

The stillness of his quarters was almost chilling as he locked the door and carefully removed his armour piece by piece, a ritual he had only been witness to for more years than he could think. The biggest blessing this place had was the shower.

Real water.

The light through the windows made it red.


	4. Shifting Horizons

_We become better the more stories we hear._

The next morning, Master Yoda woke her early with a cup of hot tea. It was sweet and filling, strangely so, but she liked it. It reminded her of berries and black tea, the kind Master Masaari had always enjoyed. There was something comforting about it, she thought, even though the last dregs of it were a little bitter from the black tea. Her large blue eyes followed the elder Master as he sat with his own cup of tea and studied her.

“Spoken have I to the Council,” he said, balancing his cane for a moment as he seated himself. “To their surprise, take you as my padawan I will. _Much_ have you to learn of the Force, child. Easy it will not be. Joyful it may all not be.”

“Work. I want to work,” she said softly. “It will be good for my mind?”

“Yes,” he said just as quietly. “For your mind, good it shall be. Hard the path is for sensitive minds. Rewarding, _yes_.”

“Master?”

“ _Mmm?_ ”

“The Force is not good or bad, right?” Her red hair gleamed in the low light as Yoda’s ears rose. “It feels neither to me. It just _is_. But. _But_ Knight Sarris who was teaching us said there was a dark side and a light side. Does that mean you have to stand in the middle of the Force, always? You know, to be at the best part of it.”

Master Yoda said nothing for a very long time. 

“Perceptive,” he finally said, his voice low. “Good or evil is not the Force. Temptation, yes. To any Jedi trouble, it can bring if unprepared the mind is. Focus you must to face the darkness within all things. Ready you are not. But soon. _Soon_.”

Her eyebrows arched so high she thought they’d fly right off.

“I like it,” she said after a long while. “The Force. It sings sometimes and cries and yells. It shifts with us all. I’ve felt it. I mean, it’s not alive but it is _alive_ all at once. We shape it, it shapes us around and around again, that’s what I think. Even after we’re gone, we’re in it, part of it.”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“Your tea you must finish,” Yoda said, _hrmm_ ing gently, but his tone was thoughtful. “To the Council go we must. Confirmed you as a Padawan and your Master myself must be. Your questions addressed later, they will be.”

Obediently, she blew on her tea and wondered if he was just shining her on or if he’d really get into the topic later. Sarris always blew her off when she tried to talk to him about it and the same with everyone else who thought light and dark meant good and evil. 

It plagued her all the way through the Council meeting and after, dogging her like her own shadow. But the good news was that she was a Padawan! She had her braid and the rest of her hair was in a braided knot at the mid-back of her head. Mostly, she was relieved that Master Yoda had taken her in. It wasn’t pride, either, but need that drove her. The world around was loud and bright and too shiny, filled with blurred coloured noises that moved too quickly sometimes or hurt her eyes.

Like Master Windu.

But with Yoda, everything seemed to slow down. It felt as if she could breathe again instead of taking shallow sips of air and the headwaters of the Force itself seemed more joyful, less prone to bury her in sound and motion. 

Master Yoda touched her hand.

“Focus,” he said.

“Yes Master,” she murmured in a small voice. 

“ _Focus_.”

The teacup rose, the pebble in it hovered as well. She spun them in a delicate balance, focusing on the differing heights as her breathing slowed.

“Tell you a story I will. Focused on the task at hand, you must be, but _listen_ you must, _learn_ you must.” 

A story! She nodded eagerly. Arha was always eager, always willing, and especially fond of stories.

The pebble dropped into the cup and she nearly lost focus _again_. But at least this time the cup stayed in the air. Yoda went on and she followed with wide eyes, struggling to stay both with the story of the padawan and the cave and levitating the pebble back up to where it had been. Anytime she started to slip, Yoda stopped and there was mischief in his voice.

He was testing her again and he enjoyed it all too much but he made her work and that was ever so much better than anything else. The stone and the cup, she felt, were buoyed by the current of the Force which flowed from her to the cup _and_ the pebble at once. It relied on her to keep them defying gravity, of course, otherwise, they’d just fall down. Like the student and the cave.

The darkside of the Force, Yoda explained, was deep and tumultuous where the light side could be filled with joy, the darkness could easily inspire fear, hatred, feelings of despair if one were lost in it. The lesson of the story was the lesson of the _lesson_. The lightside of the force was the babble of the brook, the warmth of the tea, the lapping of an ocean against the shore. The dark was the undertow, the bitterness at the end of the cup, the rapids as the brook neared a waterfall.

They were not good nor evil, they just were.

The student who was ill-prepared to face those extremes, caught in their own emotions and fears — they fell prey to the darkside and all they saw was power and that power plunged them into the darkness of their own soul. They became what they feared, twisted and warped beyond all recognition.

It was the person who determined whether or not they were good or bad. He’d answered her question _and_ helped her focus.

“Master Yoda?” she asked, watching his ears lift to recognise her now that his story was concluded. 

“I _understand_.”

“Yes,” he said simply. “ _Now_ , do you see.”

“More than ever,” she replied.

The cup and pebble circled each other, perfectly in sync.

Yoda smiled.


	5. The Scent of Snow

_Fear not the paths that others find daunting but seek to understand them._

He dreamed of a roaring red tide. Footprints washed away by pink foam, a woman’s scream high and terrified. His name in her voice, calling him in warning. The vicious sound of birds shrieking. Grogu reaching for his face. The taste of salt on his tongue, blood at the back of his throat, the feel of her body going limp in his arms.

His own terror crawling up his spine like a living thing.

And he woke in cold sweat.

He sat, breathing hard, his hand on his blaster and pointed at empty air before he could realise that he was alone. The sun washed through the room and he turned away from it, squinting at the chronometer. 

It was still early yet. 

He stripped down once more to shower in attempt to rid himself of the dream as much as warm himself up. His breath slowed, he focused. His heart beat steady and sure once more. It was just a nightmare. He had them all the time. They went away.

 _Today_. 

Today he would find his home. He didn’t have a name for her, yet, but he’d know her, he knew that without a single shred of hesitation. It would be instinctive. Like…like Grogu using the Force and that Jedi sensing him. He almost laughed, _almost_. 

Comparing himself to the Jedi, to Grogu who could perform wonders with the sheer power of his mind. He rubbed at his face and focused on the shower, the bright hot needles of it that pulled him from the eerie dream.

Din wasn’t sure what spooked him most about it, the woman’s voice or Grogu reaching for him. Both? Maybe both. She’d been so frightened, so _alone_. Maybe worse, she’d been stalked by something his mind hadn’t been ready for. 

Who _was_ she? And why did he feel such _terror_? He’d faced down how many people had had never known such a feeling save for the kid. 

Oh, _Grogu_.

Even now he felt the horror, the outrage and wrath that suffused his entire being until he’d seen his son safe in his own arms. Nothing would have stood in the way of his rescue, not even those dark troopers had—at least for a while, until the Jedi had come for his foundling.

The hot water felt good against his skin as he lowered his head, his brown eyes closed, water beading from his eyelashes. The pounding pressure eased sore muscles he didn’t know he’d had. Every muscle had drawn tight in protecting her, the woman in his dream. Nightmare?

 _Damn_ it. It was just a nightmare, that was all, but the taste it left in his mouth felt as real as anything he’d lived. He rubbed at his face again and waved the water off before towelling himself dry. 

Refocusing would help. Breathing, too, sure. He ate a quick breakfast and suited up methodically, finding peace in the ritual. The last piece to go on was the helmet that had shielded him from the eyes of his world. With the T-visor in place, he could think again and dismiss the voice that still seemed to echo in his mind.

He had work to do and a home to find.

-*-

It didn’t matter what the ship looked like in the end, as long as she was fast and solid. He found her at last in the third to last bay, her paint job crap, blaster bolts haphazardly covering her nose. She was a lighter shade of gunmetal blue, the tip of her nose fading into white where it wasn’t scarred with black.

She was beautiful.

Larger than the _Crest_ , she had space for four, comfortably housed in small rooms with beds that needed mattresses swapped out but he could get her cleaned up and in flying shape in no time. She might be longer and a little wider but somehow she reminded him of the pulverised wreck he had left behind on Tython. Something about the shape of her.

He bought her without haggling, his conditions met without protest from the smuggler selling her. Everything would be swapped out for good as new; the mattresses, the fabric of the chairs, maybe he’d get an air freshener just for kicks. She was _his_.

His eyes were hungry as he named her _Star Razor_ keeping homage to his last ship. She was newer by a decade at least, he thought, double-checking the length of her as he walked another circuit. It was maybe his third since he’d seen her sitting there proud but battered. 

-*-

The cantina was all but deserted by the time he joined Cara unsurprised when Fett and Shand disappeared out of nowhere without a farewell. Likely they were headed back to Tatooine or wherever they might call home these days. Cara would be gone as soon as he could drop her back to Nevarro, resuming her duties as a New Republic sheriff now that Grogu was in safe hands.

He had gotten used to _people_.

Din watched Cara for a while as she sipped at her drink and then grinned at him. She could probably see by the lightness in the way he sat he’d found his new home. How she knew was probably a Cara thing, she wasn't stupid.

“So,” she said, nudging him. “Tell me about the new lady in your life.”

He started inwardly and then realised she was talking about the _Razor_. Not the dream he hadn’t even told her about. Who was he kidding? It lingered far past anything he’d usually dreamt and dismissed. He breathed in through his nose and out, it made him sound like he was gargling air. 

It was _horrible_.

“She has room for four,” he began, smiling at the thought. Cara let out a whoop of laughter and clapped him on the shoulder. “ _Hey_ ,” he protested.

“You planning on picking up more people?” she asked, her eyes keen and bright.

He shrugged. 

Krif if he knew, he seemed to have been doing a great job of it before. Besides, if it happened again, at least he’d have room this time around. It wasn't rattling around if he could use the storage space.


	6. Legend

_Like a spider, the intelligence that minds the opposition waits._

Vonrald Nix, Imperial lieutenant aboard the ISS _Cutter_ , leaned back in chair as he rolled his head to the side, working out the kinks in his neck, five hours into his twelve-hour post. He closed his eyes, listening to the traffic of space liners, skiffs, Imperial transports, a half a dozen smugglers, a passing new Republic transport, flicking dials and pushing levers until he could get the audio scrubbers to fine-tune between the noises of the cosmos and communications broadband.

The elimination of distractions helped him to hone in even more finely on the surrounding chatter as he searched for traces of their enemy. Jedi or rebels, he cared little as long as his information was solid and actionable, leading to the arrest and imprisonment or death of those responsible for the attacks against the Death Stars years before.

The sector was his to explore as long as the _Cutter_ remained in the system. This one, located in the Morshdine sector of Altyrian space, on the Outer Rim Territories was no exception. The world within it his to spy on as he saw fit. There was something delightful about being part of the Intelligence community of the Imperial division of the Empire. He had left his mark on so many, had touched many victories and few _personal_ defeats. Each piece of information he tracked down was worth a prize, each was something his superiors wanted desperately.

Nix cared little about promotion, only the truth. To others in his unit, he was nigh a legend, someone to aspire to in all forms, even if he rarely accepted a promotion. 

He knew the sounds a dying sun made or the birth pangs of a new star, the warping of a black hole and the expanding rush of nebulae. It was all his to comb through, listening, tracking down those New Republic scum to all their forgotten lairs. He hoped this time he would get to go with the unit assigned to tracking his quarry down. _If_ he found something good enough. He had put in the request two months prior and still had heard nothing back. Nix expected ore from his superiors but bided his time.

He lived for this assignment, he loved it, and there was nothing more he wanted in his life than to make them pay for all the millions of lives they had cut short when the Death Stars went down. Every piece of information, every Jedi captured and killed, more than half were _his_ intel. It was a cold comfort in the void of space on a cold battleship that moved every few days wherever intelligence sent them.

This stop, they were in the Altyr system where some of the battlefront bases of the New Republic were located and he hoped for something profitable. Something that would make him stand out in a wave of unproductive systems. They couldn’t _all_ be empty of the terrorists that called themselves _The New Republic_. What an insipid name. It lacked fear, it lacked order, and that would be their undoing.

Give them time and they would unravel.

He had watched friends, colleagues, die in their prime all because they were afraid of the one thing that made the galaxies safe— _order_. The Empire was the only thing that stood in the way of chaos, especially here in the Outer Rim where beyond these worlds were the Wilds and unknown, unexplored space.

Nix would do as his superiors deemed necessary to restore or enforce all Galactic Empire control and seize territory or terrorists as his fine ear could determine. Sometimes, _sometimes_ he found out what happened to them. It was usually extraction of information and then summary execution, both which fell into special operative Namita’s realm of influence. With her droids, there was nothing the woman could not uncover.

He turned his head just a little as if catching a delicate tune in the pair of headphones in his unit, his long, slender fingers adjusting the controls as he homed in on an aberrant sound. It was very faint and he nearly dismissed it as weak interference from a neighbouring sector.

But…

It had to be a cry for help of some kind since it kept repeating, but it was in no code _he_ recognised. Nix frowned, switching to a different filter with deadly precision. Just a little more. Just a litt— 

_Ah_.

Ah _ha_.

There it was.

He drew in a breath, adjusted the gain, and frowned again. That wasn’t a code he knew at all and he prided himself on _knowing_. It was what he _did_. He growled and recorded the message until it looped back around to its origin.

“Lieutenant? _Report_.” The sound of his superior’s voice made him flinch, his grey-green eyes narrowing as his gaze snapped up. His hat shifted as he pulled his hands away from his ears, adjusting his position so he was ramrod straight. He was a slight man, thin, slightly gaunt, with a sharp nose set above thin lips that curled in a what might have been a soft smile on any other face. On his it was like razor wire.

“I believe I have something but I need the slicers to be sure,” he said in a deceptively soothing voice, almost delicate. “Perhaps we will find some occupants for Namita to enjoy as guests.”

His smile edged sharper as he stood before Hiibe who was a full two heads taller than he. Hiibe was broad shouldered, a veritable hulk of a man in grey. He somehow managed to fill the space of a squad with sheer presence. How he did it Nix would have loved to know.

“You have my permission to step down from your station and attend to the slicers.” Moff Hiibe flicked his fingers towards the door expressively. “Pray you give me swift results, Lieutenant Nix. I am in no mood to wait. Grand Admiral Thrawn is due to arrive within a day. Be expedient and give me something worthy to show him.”

“Yes, sir,” Nix said, snapping a salute before executing a sharp about-face, his expression blank. Inwardly he was trembling with a strange sort of glee. 

Oh, he would _deliver_.

He knew he would.


	7. A Song for Memria

_Excellence does not mean perfection._

Arha moved through the sickbeds methodically, offering comfort to the sick or injured from the battle below, while Master Yoda spoke with the Mon Calamari director of the MCMS _Mon_ _Calinta_. It had been many years since she had been a five year old in training, now she was nearly seventeen. Under the direction of Master Yoda, she had become a formidable healer with an excellent record for pulling off rescue work in the face of disasters natural and manmade. Her ability to sense the Force to such an extreme also meant she was perfect in locating latent Force talents, something she found both stimulating and challenging all at once. 

More so, she could calm and comfort, as she was doing now, and draw pain away from another for a time. She paused and took a seat next to a man who wouldn’t stop screaming and held his hand, pulling the pain from him until someone was able to get to him. The relief was so intense that he fainted but she stayed there with him anyway. If he woke up and she was gone, he would have probably started up again. The less pain he would have to feel the better.

She hooked up a bacta drip and took a look at his stump of a leg and winced. Cybernetics could care for the worst of the injury and give him back his leg but she knew it wasn’t the same. Everything he loved was in ruins, his planet and his body. 

All the Republic could do was help free the injured from the wide barricade that prevented them from getting to the closest medical base. Arha disliked it when conflicts turned to destructive tactics like this, one side pitted against the other with innocents caught in the middle. 

This man, Breven Idilis, had been a farmer. Now they had to give him a new leg because he had tried to protect his family from an opposing faction. She glanced at Master Yoda who was still in deep discussion and sighed. 

They were all worried about the blockade, none more than Memrian Ambassador Inari Shanti who had escaped a near assassination attempt mere days before their arrival. She had fled with her people and was the only one who could negotiate peace between hostile parties. Her loss would mean too much and the planet could turn against the Republic for failing to keep her safe. So keep her safe they would.

With Master Yoda so engrossed and her charge in the capable hands of another professional, Arha decided to seek the woman out.

“Do you know where I can find the ambassador?” she asked in a quiet voice, listened to the directions, and nodded her thanks. 

The viewport on the bubbled _Mon_ _Calinta_ needed lift access and was a wide section that allowed an unobstructed view of space. As everything was on the medical frigate, it was beautifully constructed with a sweeping, unobstructed view. 

Right now, she knew that was filled with the harsh reality of battle as ships chased each other between hulks of destroyed warships. The frigate was one of three sent to help evacuate casualties and was being protected by the Republic and Jedi forces sent to bring them safely to the sector where they would receive proper medical attention at an undisclosed medical facility.

Arha turned, her brown cloak billowing slightly as she moved and strode to the lift. Master Yoda caught the motion and nodded slightly, looking as if he’d rather be joining her. Perhaps after the director let him go, he would.

Inari Shanti stood facing what remained of a battlecruiser gutted by battle, the debris field wide and scattered. It was horrifying but the woman faced it with a calm, if resigned, demeanour. It was the way of things in a space fight. Something had to destroyed when peace talks failed to bring about necessary, lifesaving change. They would have a second shot at it once they were safe.

“Ambassador Shanti?” Arha called, her voice just loud enough. “I’m Arha Masaari, Master Yoda’s padawan. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Your guard is being cared for as we speak and the fleet is engaging the blockade.”

“That is...” Shanti’s voice was softer than Arha’s and worn. “It is good to hear, Padawan Arha-neh. This one thanks you for the news on behalf of all.” She waved a little and sat in a chair, her eyes straying to the wreckage. “This one is...very weary but will manage. Memria will manage once we get to your medical starbase. Our hope remains fully with the Republic, as ever.”

She paused to rub at her eyes.

“This one would like company, Arha-neh. You would sit?”

“Of course, Ambassador.” She swept her cape aside to sit next to the woman, studying the long tendrils of coiled blue hair, dark against her soft light purple skin. Her eyes were an explosion of blues and violets set against an inky blue sclera. When she blinked, it was sideways from the way Arha did and her eyes nearly glowed. 

She was stunning.

“Still young,” Inari Shanti said, taking her hand with that weary smile. “And a Jedi padawan at that. Amazing this one thinks, fortunate.” She turned her hand over to look at the lines life had given Arha. “You are a healer! Ah, and a gentle soul. Praise be, child. Praise be. Would that my own daughter have survived to see such a wonder. This one is pleased to have such a one as you at one’s side.”

Shanti pressed something into her hand and she realised they were crystals a moment later, she started to protest.

“No, child. To one’s daughter, these are given, and one’s own is lost. One’s age she would be. An appropriate gift to Jedi this is. These speak to you? They sing?” 

Arha looked down and saw they were crystals for lightsabers, gold ones. A matched set cut from the same long crystal. Their vibration in the Force was strong and pure and they seemed to call to her in an almost chiming pure way.

“Yes,” she whispered. “They call and sing to this one. Ambassador, thank you. They’re beautiful. They’ll be the finest lightsabers I’ll ever craft, I promise.”

Before them, the battle wound down, and slowly all the firing stopped as the barricade broke down and they jumped to lightspeed. Both sat in silence but the Ambassador clasped Arha’s hand all the way to the medical station. Arha gave the woman what comfort she could before they parted ways.

Master Yoda greeted her with tea and quiet contemplation as she showed him the crystals.


	8. The Dream

_Not even the tides can change fate._

He was alone again. 

Everyone was where they were supposed to be except _him_. Din stared down at the darksaber in his hand and gripped it tightly before igniting it with a hum that made him half want to shut to it down and throw it across the cockpit. He didn’t want the kriffing thing, he’d _never_ wanted it.

But there it was calling him to...to what? Run off on a half-cocked plan to reunite the clans of Mandalore? He disengaged the darksaber and clipped it to his side unhappily. And what of his dream? 

Din had to correct himself to _nightmare_ because that’s what it was after four nights of the same thing. Eventually, he would have to sleep again. Out of everything he could dream about, why that? And why did it keep happening? 

He moved into the back of the _Star Razor_ and sat down on the edge of the bed he’d claimed for his own. It was the closest to the cockpit and the viewport was especially well done. He could sit and watch planets turn from te bed if he wanted. It was _fantastic_.

She was a quiet ship even at full speed, now the silence of her idling was deafening. Din popped the catch on his helmet uneasily and worked his armour free setting it within reach. His rough hands cradled the helmet the Armorer had made for him and he allowed himself to shake for a moment, aching a little to be with his own kind. To know they were safe and protected and _alive_. 

It was just one reason he had to unite the clans. His people needed a leader, someone who would fight for them and reclaim their homeworld. 

Right. He’d…keep reminding himself of that. _Krif_. What had he gotten himself into?

He swallowed hard and set the helmet with his chest piece, the T-visor reminding him he would have to go down the path of uniting the clans eventually despite his own misgivings and fears. He was one man, alone. How could he hope to find clan and coverts that had gone into hiding across the known galaxy?

Din rubbed at his face and lie back, letting himself breathe in the scent of the _Star Razor_. Her shielding was up and her sensors would alert him if anything went sideways—he could afford to try and at least close his eyes for a while.

_Let me sleep this time_ , he thought and let out a soft huff, an arm thrown over his eyes. _No dreams, just sleep._

He dreamt anyway.

Din found himself on the same stark white beach, the roar of the red waves pounding a rocky shoreline set like broken teeth. It did _not_ inspire comfort at all. His armour was gone and he found himself garbed in a tunic and pants, his face bare. Even here in a dream that made him flinch at the realisation.

He followed impressions in the sand up towards a line of caves, ducking in the biggest one where he found the crumpled form of a woman partially hidden by a rockfall. The dust was still settling. 

Immediately, he set to work clearing the rubble. All he could see of her was a white blood spattered arm and matted red hair. Alarms went off in his head as he worked. This was too real to be a dream, much too real. It was definitely freaking him out and that made him pick up the pace. Whatever this was, he had to hurry.

She stirred groggily as he shifted the last rock pinning her.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, his fingers clearing her bruising face of hair. “Hey, now, _easy_. You’re not alone.”

Din started and waved a hand over her face and realised she couldn’t see him as she turned her head in his direction, her breath coming faster. He didn’t feel anything broken—even if this was a dream, his mind insisted it was real. He had to check, to make sure. What if she died on him?

He held her awkwardly at first, the angle wrong, and then crossed his legs pulling her half into his lap, her head lolling against his chest and the crook of his arm. Even bruised and bleeding, as he stared down at her, she was beautiful. 

Her lips parted.

“ _It’s coming_ ,” she murmured, her breath shaky. Her wide blue eyes searched his face blindly, her hand clutching at his tunic as if she could pull them closer together. “ _Please help me. It’s so cold_.”

“I’m here,” he said, his heart in his throat. “You’re _safe_.” Her fingers found his cheek, his lips, and she whispered.

“Altyr system. _Jedi_. Coordinates for the-” She struggled for a moment her breath ragged, her sightless eyes wild and filled with terror. It made him panic as her words slurred together for a moment. “It’s coming to kill me.”

She spasmed and he rocked with it until she went limp in his arms. 

No. 

Not this.

Not _again_.

“Stay with me, you hear me? Hey, here now. Don’t…” he whispered, closing his eyes. 

_Grogu reached for his face_.

He woke with a gasp and a muffled cry, knowing with certainty she was real and wondering if he was half mad as he worked his armour back on.

The helmet clicked in place.

She was Jedi and she was in a hell of a lot of trouble, he thought as he scrambled into the cockpit and flicked switches and toggled. The _Star Razor_ woke and he punched into coordinates that just seemed _right_. Anything else but those numbers made his hand shake and bile rise in his throat.

No, he knew where he was going, and that was more than a little frightening. A little over a day’s travel and he’d be in the right system. Then he had the impossible task of finding the right planet and then finding her on that planet and it was ridiculous. What was he even doing? Something in him refused to let it go, though. A core piece of him _felt_ the truth as much as he’d felt his bond with Grogu.

_I’m coming_ , he thought. _This is madness but I’m coming._


	9. Dutybound

_Righteousness is a mindset, no matter where it is found._

“Jedi,” Nix hissed, his fist hitting the console as he poured his attention over a section of codes. “It’s _Jedi_. Old Republic! _Very_ old.” 

The slicer next to him gave him an affirmative chirp which was echoed as the machines worked to crunch his data. It had taken them half the time he was given but they had broken the code with his own cipher data. He smiled, as excited for the first time in months as he’d been the first time he’d ever brought actionable intel to an officer. 

Thrawn would be as delighted as the Grand Admiral ever got. 

Pleased, certainly.

Nix’s shift had ended six hours ago and he stretched before patting the slicer on the shoulder. It bleeped happily and he rose. A little R&R wouldn’t kill him. Besides, he had hours before Thrawn was due and his preliminary findings, which he transmitted with a press of a button and printed a flimsi of with another, were complete. 

He deserved a hot meal at the mess.

-*-

The Officer Mess was not a hive activity this early but neither was it as empty as he thought it would be. Semtal Ness, Captain of his unit, sat with her hands folded around her drink and crooked a finger at him as he came around with a full plate. She had put her hair down for once and the long dark locks were shiny and wavy from the bun she’d had it in all day. She still looked deadly, though. Anyone who knew her knew that her mind was as sharp as they came. Her dark eyes were welcoming and he allowed himself to sigh as he sat. Nix glanced at her cap on the table—she was definitely off duty.

She stole a piece of vegetable and regarded it frankly before eating it.

“Command is abuzz with your Jedi news,” she said, grinning before dropping her head back to take in whatever she was drinking. “You think they’ll be alive enough for intel?”

“That’s conjecture, Sprite. You know I don’t do that.”

“C’mon, man. Unpucker. Live a little, hotstuff. The least you could do is shoot some shit with me.”

He gave her a long look.

“I’ve only had a glass, relax, _Mom_.” He knew she wasn’t going to try and drink him under the table. This time. The last time she’d done that he’d carried her back to her quarters, belying the fact that he looked like he couldn’t carry his own weight, and made sure she had a restorative ready when she woke. He could hold his own, despite his looks. No one would think he could hold anything in him as thin as he was but he was full of surprises.

“I will gladly point out, Captain, that I am not your mother. I am your subordinate and only wish you to appear as best as you can on or off-duty.” He smiled and his eyes reflected his goodwill. Rank had only ever mattered in moments like this.

“That’s why I like you, Ripper. You know your place in Intel and I admire that. But you should really accept that promotion, you remember the one that gave you your own Slicer team. Authority to do what you want when you want, a few officers under you? You’re not that much of a kid anymore and you’re damn good at what you do. A command post wouldn’t kill you right now.”

“Maybe not a kid so much,” he agreed, stretching as he eyed a piece of meat and stabbed it. He made a face and ate it. “ _Captain?_ Really? Do I even look like I’m a Captain?”

“Captain Babyface, maybe?” she shot back at him and stole another vege, probably to get a rise out of him. He ignored the goad because it was accurate. He still looked like he was sixteen despite the fact he was well into his twenties, like she was. “But really, you should have your own team. Command’s been up my kriffing britches about getting you to accept. Stop procrastinating, Rip and just take the kriffing thing.”

“Will it make you stop stealing my dinner?”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t live on maybes,” he said with a sigh, pulling his glass in so he could sip from it. The ale went well with the meat and he gave it a second look, nodding a little in surprise. Did they get an upgrade on the usual swill?

_Nice_.

“Fine. I won’t steal your dinner and you’ll accept promotion.” He saw what she’d done and rolled his eyes. Great trick. He liked his bridge shift but maybe it was getting a little routine. Having his own little pocket command might not kill him but it would force his growth in other ways. He was grateful for her insistence, honestly, as he would have consigned himself to lieutenancy for the entirety of his career if he could help it. He didn’t need it to be content with his piece of the Empire.

“You know I don’t want it,” he said.

“I know, Ripper. believe me, I’ve never seen an officer smash no so many times on a promotional offer,” she murmured, laughing. “But that’s what sets you apart. You’ll do a stellar job and it’ll force you to socialise with people who aren’t just me.”

“Great.”

“And the Moff is impatient to see if you can provide use better intelligence with your own unit.”

“He’s probably right,” Nix admitted, spearing another piece. “A dedicated Slicer unit is more efficient. We could have twice the results in half the time. Like I did today.”

“Exactly, like you did today, which was impressive by the way. You’re sure it’s the Morshdine sector? We pummeled the krif out of that during the Clone Wars.”

“It’s definitely the right one. _I_ don’t make mistakes and data doesn’t lie unless it’s been placed there by a traitor.”

“Easy, there, just double-checking, Captain.”

“Stop that, I haven’t formally accepted anything.”

“You’re going to as soon as you get back to your bunk.” She rocked back in her chair with a bright laugh.

“You don’t know that!” He stabbed the fork for emphasis and his face flushed. She knew it, he’d already made his mind up. _Krif_ her. “When do they ship out for investigation, Sprite?”

“When you give the order.”

“Wait, what?” He put the fork down, staring at her in disbelief. “You mean, I’d get to go with them.”

“Sometimes, kid, you’re O-level dense. If you’re in charge of a unit, yeah, you get to go with them. You’ve been cockblocking yourself for years, like I keep reminding you.”

“Krif _me_ ,” he said slowly.

She rose and circled the table, empty glass in hand, to thump him on the shoulder.

“Yep, _krif_ _you_ , Rip.”

He brought up the promotion on his datapad and hit _accept_. He was going to be right there when they captured the Jedi.


	10. The Test: Meditation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interesting tidbit: Windu and Bulq created _Vaapad_ together and Bulq, as Master Windu would say in _Shatterpoint_ , fell to the darkside...and thus was no master of the fighting style as it consumed him.
> 
> I hope my readers are having an excellent day! 
> 
> xxx  
> R.W. Winters

_Belief in self is the hardest part of perseverance._

The Separatists were more than an inconvenience, they were the type of trouble that was going to get people killed. In the coming years before the Clone Wars broke out the sentiment proved true. 

Master Yoda took her aside after she had completed most of her trials and they sat, sipping tea in her quarters. The seriousness of her master was not worrisome but made her thoughtful. 

“Master,” she said very quietly. “I have been a Padawan for many years and it has been as much a challenge as a peace for me. But you are in need of Jedi Knights to lead clone troopers into battle. I am willing and I will care for my troopers to the best of my abilities.”

“Know this I do,” Yoda said, smiling. “Care for all life do you. An excellent general you will make. Your training, almost complete it is. A mission I have for you, yes. Your last trial, believe it to be, I do.”

The trial of spirit.

That and putting her long-held kyber crystals into the housing units she’d made for both lightsabers would be her final steps to becoming a Jedi Knight. The years spent on healing techniques, learning battlefield surgery, and becoming as well rounded with offence and with defensive practises with her lightsaber had paid off nicely.

Master Yoda was incredible with a lightsaber, using the Force and his small size to be _everywhere_. Her own training reflected this as she was tiny, too. He liked to insist he was too old to do things but it was such a ruse. He could do many things others couldn’t and his techniques with a lightsaber were just one out of many. She watched the elder Jedi as he sipped his tea and smiled.

“I know myself and I know the Force, Master,” she said gently. “And I have your teaching for a primer. I come prepared for my last test with all that I am offered freely.”

“Then success you will find,” Yoda said with a soft _hrmm_. “Doubt you I do not. A fine choice for Knight you are. Boasting I am not. The truth do I speak. A proud mentor do you make of me. No child are _you_ now. Grown well you have in the Force. Not so loud, _mmm_?”

“Always loud,” she responded and lowered her voice, “especially Master Windu. But…he’s tolerable now but do I _have_ to spar with him again today?”

“Yes,” Yoda said and meant it. She sighed. “Good for you these sessions are. Loud in the Force others are. Fight as if it is real you must. Your life one day, it may save.”

Her eyebrows arched.

“Your mission, after this will begin,” he said with a little laugh. “Ready you are to embark on it you must be. Feel the Force strongly you must. Clones must be rescued, in a dark place they are. The Light you must become.”

“Master!” she said, almost spilling her tea. Droplets hung in the air for a moment before she put them back into her cup. “If they’re in danger, then I should leave immediately to rescue them.”

“Peace, my friend,” Yoda said, patting her arm gently. “Safe they are for the moment. Communications reestablished they have. Wait for evacuation they must. Time, we _have_. An asset they will be, when arrived you have. Know the place to go, you will.”

“Yes Master,” she murmured, dipping her head. But first, she had to fight Mace Windu. It wasn’t her first time and while she had gotten better, his style was incredibly difficult to defend against. It was one reason she had committed herself to learning as many styles of lightsaber combat as there were. There was always something to learn and Vaapad was probably the hardest she had ever tried to learn. Master Windu and Master Bulq, the two who created the style, were obviously masters at using it, though privately, she knew Master Windu harnessed it the best. It was unpredictable, staccato, and sometimes ungraceful but it was deadly and powerful all the same. Vaapad or sometimes as it was known as _Juyo_ was deeply emotional and energetic, thus closer to the darkside of the Force. She found it almost amusing that emotional state could lead one closer to the darkside—but was that true of all emotion? Could joy, too, lead to the darkside? Elation? Love? She supposed, perhaps, love had its own darkness. Joy could become euphoria, as could elation, and though it was positive could blind one to reality.

Arha slipped into meditation, thinking on this. For herself, ever since Master Yoda had taught her about the nature of the Force, she had only ever really seen riptides and eddies, the push and pull of the Force on all living and non-living things. Emotions ran strong in her when it came to the defence of others or healing but she could see how they could be used for combat as well. One did not fight without reason. Hers was the protection of herself and others and it was cyclic. She couldn’t protect anyone if she was dead, so the defence of self was primary and it meant she must become proficient in as many forms and practises as she could in order to keep herself alive.

This meant _Vaapad_ was on her list. So, she had resolved to wheedle Master Windu into training her as often as the Jedi could allow himself the moments needed to do so. He was _difficult_ about it but oddly kind. Master Yoda once said that he would have been an excellent Master for her because of the way he related to the Force. He was loud with it, she was wide with it, both their sensitivities were always full blast. Any conversation with Master Windu was taxing but rewarding all the same. She found herself in need of a lie down afterwards or meditation, something to shed the excess energy and drain that happened when they were in proximity. It was worse with lightsaber practise.

Much worse.

Facing Master Windu in practise was much different than learning via droid instruction. That simply broke down the style into motions, which with practise, became instinct. It didn’t matter how many movements she knew if she didn’t have the mindset to go along with it.

-*-

She didn’t notice when Master Yoda slipped from the room but she _did_ notice when Master Windu took his place. Her eyes snapped open and onto the dark-skinned Master’s face. His eyes were dark pools she was sometimes afraid she’d fall into and never come out. They stared at each other for a while and then Windu let out a sigh. Some of his magnetic energy eased and she looked away.

“Master Windu,” she said bowing her head a little.

“Padawan Arha,” he rumbled. “Did I startle you again?”

“You always startle me, Master.”

He almost smiled. Almost. And deliberately avoided the pat he might have given another Youngling or Padawan. Long association of this sort meant he knew he could easily overload her if he touched her and she wasn’t ready for it. As a youngling, it had happened a few times in the creche. Once, she had simply fainted, completely overwhelmed as he’d tried to comfort her. It had been a bit of a shock for the both of them, perhaps it still was. He was a hard man, lean, driven, highly intelligent, and emitted a _will_ that was nearly tangible.

Like her own, in some respects.

In the end, it was probably why Master Yoda had taken her on as _his_ Padawan.

“Have you done the proper meditation?” he asked after a moment, tilting his head a little. She shook her head.

“I was meditating on lightsaber combat but not _Vaapad_ especially. I should have been preparing, apologies, Master Windu.”

“I have no time to meditate with you, Padawan Arha but no apologies are needed this time.” He was blunt, to the point. “Master Yoda has already given you your mission?”

“He told me there were clones in trouble but not the specifics, just that we had time to spare and I was to spar with you before I left.” 

She closed her eyes and took a slow breath in.

“You’re coming with me,” he said quietly and his voice was grim as ever, almost as if he didn’t want her to go. 

“Oh.” They sat in silence until she finally cracked her eyes open to regard him seriously. “Are you okay with that, sir?”

“Are _you_?” 

“Yes,” she murmured. “It doesn’t really matter if I am or am not okay with anything. Those clones need our help more than anything, including my own comfort.”

Mace knotted his fingers together thoughtfully, his face unreadable before he looked up at her. At her level, he was all angles and lines, immovable as he sat cross-legged. Arha thought, just for a moment, he would have had a nice smile if he ever was inclined.

There was still amusement in him, even if he never let it show.

“Let me see your lightsabers,” he said after a longer moment than strictly necessary. “Master Yoda says you completed them yesterday.”

“I did, yes, Master, with the kyber crystals Ambassador Shanti gave me.” She started to rise but he waved her down and she glanced at him curiously.

“Can you fetch them with the Force?” he asked curiously. 

“Master?” Her head canted to the side a little but he said nothing, so she closed her eyes and concentrated. They were in their own box, one she had laser-carved herself with a rising sun, trees, and a flowing stream. She wasn’t an artisan and it was only a hobby but it looked good polished to a shine, different woods inlaid neatly with a half disk of carnelian as the rising—or setting—sun.

The box rose and drifted until it hovered in front of Windu, then the top opened, revealing light-blue crushed velvet where two beautifully wrought lightsabers lay nestled. Arha loved the way she had etched swirls and eddies into the black of the hilt, sinking her love of the Force into the artistry, letting the Force guide her movements as she had etched. Some of it had been done _through_ the Force itself with her eyes closed, seeing only colour, shape, and lines. As she had promised Shanti, they were beautiful things, elegant as they were deadly.

“Two?” he asked quietly.

“The ambassador gave me two crystals, so I made two lightsabers. They’re a matched pair. I couldn’t use one without the other. It seemed, ah,” she searched for the word, her eyebrows knit. “Well, it seemed _disrespectful_. They were meant for this, I felt it through the Force when they sang to me. I studied as many forms as I could so I could wield them with the reverence they deserve, Master. Even and perhaps especially _Vaapad_.”

“Hmm,” he said, thoughtfully. “You speak of them as if they are alive.”

“They are part of the Force, Master,” she said almost gently. “Alive and not, a tool and a friend. I crafted them with all the love I have for the Force—they are an extension of who I am and who I will become as a Jedi Knight. The Force led me to everything put into them." She frowned a little and then smiled. "I suppose I felt the need to include everything, too.”

He picked one up to study it. The metal was warm and cool all at once and he was especially impressed with the inlay work. It looked for all the universe as if it were fit for a princess of all things. It was delicate, almost fragile, and yet radiated strength. 

It was _Arha_.

Mace ignited one and the burnished gold blade hummed on, the pitch high and pure. He stood, hefting the weight of it as he moved with a few practise katas. She watched him carefully and found the flow of his movements peaceful. It was not _Vaapad_ but the easy, familiar strides of _Djem So_.

“Excellent work, the balance is perfect.” He shut down the blade and put it back into the box. Coming from Mace Windu, it was the highest praise. “Are you ready to spar?”

“Yes, Master Windu. I believe I am.”

She rose and pulled the lightsabers to her, clipping them to her belt. The box returned to where it had begun its travels. Soon, she would begin her own and Master Windu would be leading the way.

At the training room set aside for them, Windu paused.

“The goal is surviving, _persevering_ , Padawan, not winning.”

“Is it?” she asked her Padawan braid swinging. “ _Mmm_. Then there is no such thing as yielding or even defeat.”

“Correct. Out among the stars, Padawan, there is no yielding. Only the struggle and the instant between life and death.”

“Yes sir,” she breathed and ignited her lightsabers.


	11. Impossibilities

_The odds of success are never impossible._

Din warped into the edge of Altyrian space, his fingers flipping the volume higher on his radio transceiver. There had to be something out there of her or maybe he just had to take a nap. He grimaced at the thought and how easy it would be to doze. After this, if he still wasn’t sleeping, he was going planetside and sleep a galactic _week_. 

He kinda hoped he’d be able to take a break from this if only to get his bearings. Right now he felt like he was all knotted up and free-falling to his doom. Okay, maybe that was a little melodramatic but he felt like Bantha crap looked and now he was hunting a woman down who might not even be alive.

_She was definitely alive._

He could pat himself on the back for being a Light blessed hero, right? The kid would get a kick out of it. In fact, every time he got to the part of the dream, he could almost _feel_ Grogu reaching out to him. It was, well, it was kriffing weirding him out in all the ways possible. Everyone kept telling him he had a bond with the little green kid but exactly what kind of bond was it?

Yeah. He loved the kid, sure, but there was something there, something _else_. Something else that had made him go back for him that first time and that something had shaken him to his foundation. Hell, it still was. It was rattling him around inside of his armour, that's what it was doing.

Here he was gunning for the same thing, following an intangible pull to bring him closer to saving someone else he didn’t know. He was committed to this path, now, and he couldn’t turn away. 

He wouldn’t fail her.

-*-

This is a dream.

Again.

He can tell, now, almost before he shuts his eyes, he can tell. The crash of the surf, the call of the birds, the weight of her against his chest. 

But she’s awake this time and they’re somewhere different. Snow fell, snow he’d collected in a long, wide, purple-veined leaf. She looked as if she was freezing to death with how white her face was and that slight blue tinge to her lips.

“Just a little more,” he coaxed. “I know it’s cold. I’m sorry but it’s water and I promise it will help. Here, let me—” He shifted her gently and reached to undo his cloak and wrap it around her. He could feel her draw in a shaky breath, then another as she pressed her cheek to his chest and tucked herself closer.

He froze for the longest moment and then let himself wrap his arms around her.

“ _Easy_ ,” he found himself almost crooning. Like she was Grogu and the kid was being fussy. “I’m coming. I promise.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I can feel you the same way I can reach you. You’re,” her breath came short and sharp, “in the right system, now.”

“I don’t—” He started wonderingly. “ _How_ is any of this happening?”

“The Force,” she murmured, shivering hard. He steadied her the best he could. “The Force brings us together, connects us.” He felt her smile and swallow and focus on breathing for a while. Din shifted her a little bit and she sighed. 

“Doesn’t the Force just work for people like the Jedi?” he asked, frowning. He realised the sharp motion she’d made was a laugh and he let out a soft huff. 

“What? All I know about that is that my foundling, Grogu, could use it. That the Jedi could. _Can_.”

He stopped dead as her palm cradled his cheek and slowly warmed with the heat of his skin. 

His breath hitched and he felt as if he was going quietly have a heart attack before he forced himself to relax. Din realised he wanted more of that touch, just…the gentlest brush of it would be fine. He’d never really gotten attached to touch and hadn't missed it much. It just wasn’t the way of the Mandalorian people, at least not his covert. There were specific, _very specific_ types and this was—

Ah.

Very private.

“You have no idea, do you?” It was the softest of whispers, the gentlest touches. It wasn’t even mocking, just this almost wistful wonder. As if sensing his conflict, she tucked her hand away in the warmth their two bodies had created.

“ _What?_ ” he asked and felt about as stupid as when he asked Luke kriffing Skywalker if he was a Jedi. She let out a soft but startled sound and her head listed against his arm.

_Grogu reached for his face._

-*-

“ _No!_ Kriffit!” 

His helmet barked against the control panel hard enough to make him grit his teeth. 

" _Bic_ _ni_ _skana’din_ ,” he spat in Mando’a, frustration claiming him—thankfully where and when no one else could see him. Being alone had its benefits. No one could see him being a complete idiot.

Din frowned, staring at the navicomputer and the coordinates he’d just entered. That would jump him straight into the, hmm. He checked his charts just to be sure and then checked them again to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming. He was going to the Morshdine sector.

She’d done this. 

The Jedi had. 

If she hadn’t then he was probably in need of more rest and he’d wind up jumping into the middle of a sun. He took his helmet off, resting it on the floor next to his chair before rubbing at his face vigorously for a few moments.

He hadn’t even realised he’d fallen asleep. Maybe that was more frightening. He was— He was _himself_ , wasn’t he? The Mandalorian damn good at Bounty Hunting, enough so to feed his covert so they didn’t have to risk themselves. He took necessary risks, heading off after criminals and galactic scum, the bigger bounty the better. The more beskar for the children and his people.

Maybe it was just running with the kid. The loss of him.

No.

 _No_.

The Jedi was _real_. And she was in serious trouble, maybe even dying from what he could _feel_. Maybe she was dying over and over and somehow being kept alive. What a horrible thing to think. What a horrible thing to have happen, even in one's imagination. Why else would she collapse so much in his dream? Why couldn’t she just keep talking to him? 

That was a fate worse than death, to be eternally waiting for help unable to reach anyone but him. Somehow just _him_. He couldn’t just leave her to it, abandon her after how close he was. It was stupid, fighting with himself like this.

He promised her he was coming to rescue her.

And so he was going to do it.

No matter how ludicrous it all seemed, he’d made a _promise_. 


	12. The Darkness Within

_The darkness rises like an ocean’s swell._

“Namita?” Nix cracked his knuckles as he called out, he knew it was a disgusting habit but sometimes they just cried out for it. He straightened his cap and tugged at his new uniform, it was only a little too tight in the pants and he was getting used to the fit. 

Or maybe he’d have to get a different pair. Someone had gotten his measurements wrong and it was— No, that wasn’t it. He just hadn’t actually been fitted in that many years.

_Krif_. That’s what he got for accepting command and then forgetting about his inseam, all of which was secondary to the task at hand.

“I am here, young Nix,” came a velvet-soft voice. He tried not to shudder. “I hear you’ve been promoted, finally.”

Namita Jin was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen with long silver hair that swirled down her back like a river and eyes the colour of fine light jade that always made him weak in the knees. Even her eyelashes were silver and sparkled like the chrome on her desk when the interior lights caught them. He knew better than to covet her in any manner than professional, though she was a lovely sight for any pair of eyes. She was tall, too, taller than he was by a few heads.

She flicked an elegant white hand to a plush seat in front of her and he tried not to flush when she looked at him. It wasn’t just a _look_ , it was a sweep as if she was assessing his worthiness to stand before her or maybe his pants. Probably not his pants, he hoped it wasn’t.

He was a Captain now, part of him wanted to say, but what he said was a soft, “Yes, ma’am.” 

Namita stared across at him a moment later as he sat stiffly in her entirely too overstuffed chair. It felt as if it were going to smother him alive. 

On the upside, it was actually quite comfortable, said smothering aside. How she’d acquired it was the real question. Nothing on this ship was made this plush or this nicely. Maybe she’d won it in a game of sabacc and she was just richer than any of the officers.

Then again, looking at her deadly beauty and the fact that she could probably pry secrets out of his brain the way some species cracked nuts, maybe he didn’t want to know. Her droids could crack nuts the way— 

Bad line of thought. He wasn’t going to go near it, not even for a brief moment. Honestly, what he really knew was one thing.

The woman was dangerous with or without her droids considering she was Force-sensitive. There was something about her that spooked him—as much as he might admire her. Once, he’d heard, she’d been one of the Emperor’s Hands, force-sensitive operatives that took orders directly from him. Now?

Now she was _his_ to command.

It was terrifying but he knew he could use her on his team and it was a better use for her than the constant interrogation she did. Using her to pinpoint the location of a Jedi or other Force-sensitives was an option he needed more than slicers that only handled data. 

She could do what no one on the ship could do.

“Have you come to liberate me?” she asked and he just looked at her for a long, long moment. Was she reading his mind? Had she heard what he’d been thinking this whole time?

“Namita Jin,” he said formally, “I’m reassigning you to my Hunter unit.”

“Ah,” she said with a smile. 

Nix watched the expression dip into something entirely too sensual as she closed her eyes.

“ _Finally_.”

And he felt as if someone had stepped on his grave.

-*-

Jin watched the young Captain leave and folded her hands, which were expertly manicured into gleaming red tips, and let out a long, satisfied sigh. She didn’t need to hit _accept_ on a promotion, she just had to have patience. It wasn’t that she didn’t take a certain amount of pride in her handiwork—she did—but in the years after the Emperor’s death, she had become bored as the remnants of the Empire struggled to regain some semblance of power. 

Bored of the secrets and the mind games, bored of the droids, bored of the stupid little everyday monotony that had infused her life after years of adventure. It was the worst sort of forced retirement. With this new assignment came a predatory need to stretch herself out again. She knew none of them really understood what an Emperor’s Hand really did, nor did they want to, she reflected. 

Asking might mean she’d answer. Knowing might mean they’d die. It was a fear she’d cultivated, honed until it was as sharp as her own bite might be. In reality, it was far worse but their fear was sweet, the poor things. ‘Leave them to Namita,’ was a phrase that came all too quickly to the officers of the ISS _Cutter_ and when she was done with whatever _them_ they had been, they were useless to anyone save fuel for a dying star.

It was fact that she made secrets spill from the minds of everyone she touched. Like many of her kind it was work she enjoyed—not the torture, which she could honestly do without—but the secrets. Most, these days, were boring. _That_ was why she found her new assignment compelling. This was like being let out of a cage for the first time in _years_.

She stood and moved to the window, reaching out with her mind, tasting the darkside of the Force as if it were fine wine. Her consciousness spidered out along the intricate web of the Force.

_Where are you, little Jedi?_ she whispered. _Your time has run out, precious thing. I will come for you like a storm of darkness and you will fall to my hand._


	13. The Test: Vaapad

_Nothing about being Jedi is natural, it is discipline._

_Vaapad_.

Located on the world of Sarapin, its two moons, and four-hundred twenty-six asteroids, the creatures Mace Windu would use as his lightsaber combat style inspiration were the sort of creatures that were unpredictable, living on a mostly inhospitable planet littered with volcanoes and massive lava flows. They were vicious, tentacled creatures with the largest recorded kill with twenty-one tentacles. They were able to whip these tentacles so fast as to be unseen, killing their prey with ruthless efficiency.

 _This_ was the seventh form of lightsaber combat that ghosted across the surface of the darkness that was the Force. For most students, the temptation of falling into that darkness and never coming out was too great. You _had_ to love the fight, to relish it, in order to harness its potent style. 

Powerful.

Deadly.

You had to use it and then _let it go_ , to release that sense of gleeful violence back into the void in which it came from. Being Jedi, using this technique, forming that brief relationship with the darkness, was not _natural_. 

And yet it was. It was primal to fight, to relish and want it. To _feel_ your opponent cherish the fight as well. She opened herself to it even now, to Vaapad.

“You know what has to be done, Arha Masaari,” Mace Windu said patiently. “And I know you have the capability inside you to do it.” His voice was soft and careful as he motioned to her. 

“ _Begin_.”

She embraced the Force as if she welcomed home an old friend and relished the fight, nurtured it inside of her mind and body and _moved_ with a flurry of attacks that pushed Mace back. How many times had they done this day after day, year after year? Every time, she learned something new.

And every time she had yielded.

Not today.

The Force flowed through her guiding her actions as she moved fluidly around and into Mace as he parried, his hard face almost surprised. Today she had moved better, allowing herself to surrender to the fight, to the rush of adrenaline, the grace of combat. For every step he took, she had two to match. He was stronger, formidable, cunning. Arha was quick, incorporating Ataru, slamming her blows in with the Force so they hit harder, struck as if rain were falling.

Like the Vaapad the style was named after, she became its arms striking almost invisibly, surgically. The hum of her blades formed an x-block as Mace came at her, sparks flew. He drove her back as relentlessly as she had begun her attack. He stepped, she dodged, her _gi_ smoked where his lightsaber had sliced through the fabric and she almost lost her hold on the Force. Her foot buried itself into his abdomen as she used the momentum to push herself away into a flip, landing in a move that would have made Master Yoda proud.

They said nothing to each other, she and Master Windu, but they used the room, all of it, settling into a deadly dance, too fast almost for the naked eye. Striking, blocking, moving as if intent on destroying each other. 

This was Vapaad.

This was what he meant by _survival_. Skimming the darkside of the Force, embracing, then releasing. Rising, falling, and rising again.

Every technique she learned was used, every trick, every sweep and slash, the short snapping strikes most of all. In the end, after two hours of this, Master Windu called the fight a draw with neither of them making headway against each other.

She looked up at him and found, to her amazement, he was grinning as he reached down to help her up.

“You haven’t mastered Vaapad,” he said with a laugh, “but neither did you yield. Well done, Padawan Arha. Go shower, pack light for a few days of travel. We will arrive at the outpost in the Trilon sector on the Outer Rim in three days of hyperspace travel. The clones are pinned down by Separatist forces near the spice mining operations in the Gannaria system, near Zaddja. We’re going to get them and the vital information they hold out.”

“Yes, Master Windu,” she said, inclining her head.

And so began the mission to liberate five clones; Brickhouse, Mountain, Killshot, Stats, and their medic, Tranq. Clones that would become important to her in more ways than she could imagine. And every last one of them, she vowed, was coming home with her.

They just had to hold on a little longer.

-*-

The two _Arquitens_ -class light cruisers _Sapphire III_ and _Gambit’s_ _Ace_ came out of hyperspace just beyond the sensors of enemy ships. Arha leaned against the pilot’s seat and studied the layout while Master Windu finished prepping their transport. 

“Captain Brick,” the clone trooper pilot said over communications, “stand -by for reinforcements, incoming in _mark_ -five. Good luck.”

“Ready and waiting.” The line crackled with static. “ _Sapphire_ we see you brought friends. Good timing.” 

Arha turned away, making sure she had both blaster and lightsabers clipped appropriately as she moved towards the hangar bay where the transport lie waiting for her, gleaming in silver and red. ARC-troopers, twelve of them, were geared up and waiting.

“Sir,” one said, nodding to her. Her hand seemed smaller as she thumped his armour in reply. He grinned and settled his T-visor helmet onto his head. “Helluva day but we’ll get those men out.”

“Yes,” she agreed, all teeth and determination, “that’s our mission. Be ready for a fight, we’re going in at a clip. Forty-five droids are holding our boys hostage. Let’s get in there and get them out. Not a man is to be left behind, do you hear me? You shoot down those droids and you get yourselves back here in one piece!” 

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“Load up, Troopers! Let’s go, go, go!”

“Hoorah!” called someone to the left of her. “Tiny but fierce. I like her. Master Windu, you gonna let us keep this one or what?”

“Krif you, Bracer. You can’t keep all of them.”

“I can try!”

Mace looked on and she could feel his approval curling through the space between them as if she’d been his own Padawan.


	14. Whispers of the Force

_The Force is with you, always._

His scanners picked up the distress beacon immediately as he travelled to the coordinates he’d plugged in, directing him not to Altyr VI but its set of three moons where the beacon itself blared in cyclic intervals. 

The northern hemisphere of Altyr VI’s third moon was a wintry, woodland mix where he set the _Star_ _Razor_ down and covered her with a camouflage net then another tarp. If his coordinates were right, this was where she had to be. This one particular moon in this one very particular sector.

It became obvious once he homed in on the beacon, there was probably going to be trouble. The air was thin as he drew a breath in and let it out in a cloud of steam. All he could see was long pulverised by weapons of mass destruction and then left to seed. Pillars that might have been still standing had been engulfed by the moon’s flora, rich in bioluminescence. Even in the storm, it made for a haunting sight.

He checked his instruments frowning and kept walking. The crunch of his boots against the snow as he moved further and furth away from the ruins seemed to grown louder with every footfall. The wind rose, howling, but he kept going, homing in on the distress call.

Something screamed by high overhead and he threw himself behind a pile of debris.

 _TIE fighter_.

He groaned.

Nothing was easy. No wonder she was so terrified wherever she was and if she was outside, somewhere close by, she was probably suffering from the elements. Din shook his head a little as if that would recenter himself. Could be and might be weren’t going to help him find her and if the Imps were on her trail as well, this was going to get ugly real fast.

It isn’t the cold of the wind against his neck that makes him shudder. It’s the knowledge that they’ll kill her when they find her—or worse. There’s always worse.

The secret experimentation base on Nevarro comes to mind with the dead things in tanks. He kept moving until he found a crevasse where the signal seemed the strongest and slid himself in. He was beginning to wish he’d brought the _Star Razor_ in closer as he worked his way into what had become a cavern. Water dripped, here, and snow covered most surfaces save the warmer parts. 

He flashed his glowrod around and could hear a soft intermittent chirp. The bioluminescent flora emitted a steady light source but only by scanning the area with the glowrod did he realise he was in an underground laboratory, something that had been hidden even in its prime. 

He followed a set of massive roots around, frowning, and found a bed of mushrooms and various other vegetation had grown over one particular spot, crawling up transparisteel doors until they were thick with hardy vines that had burst into every colour imaginable and maybe a few his brain didn’t even know. He ghosted his fingers over them and they opened and closed as he touched them.

Branches and thick roots covered something slick and sharp, something humming, in the centre of the room. It’s not just covered in flora, it’s so thick with it that even the durasteel is stressed, the metal buckling, transparisteel cracking and starting to splinter from years of growth trying to reclaim it. A stream of coolant popping had killed a section of fungi and plant life to one side but had long since ran out of liquid. 

He could hear the scream of one, maybe two TIE fighters passing overhead, which was when he found the transponder broadcasting the distress call under a crush of root and flipped it off. 

Din ignited the darksaber and his hands were not shaking. They were calm and steady.

“I’m coming, burc’ya,” he whispered, slicing through thick, thick root. “Just hold on.” 

He hacked and sliced and teased out plants until he found a control panel and then a sheaf of flimsiplast, flipping through it for the directions to get the damn thing open. There was a complex set of awakening instructions and he put the codes into the pad cautiously. There was a wheezing grind that did not fill him with confidence as the top cover tried to retract.

The whine of the TIE fighters was louder now.

Closer.

He flicked the darksaber and sliced a few more roots before the cover whined in protest and slid back far enough for him to realise that the box really did contain something. 

A small female figure.

The cryo tank drained the rest of the fluid out that had kept her in a state of suspended animation and tubes and hoses began the process of disconnecting, something that was a longer process than it felt like it should have been. 

How _long_ had she been in here? The condition of the room told him many, many years. 

Finally, all the popping and hissing died down and he caught her as she fell out. When she did, he swore softly. She was _tiny_. Most of her seemed to be coiled and braided red hair, clipped and pinned in place. 

She had two lightsabers clipped to her belt and wore clothes that looked like she’d been in a serious fight. Her _gi_ was a soft creamy blue, blaster bolts spotted the sleeves, her trousers had holes in one knee, the fabric ripped through as if she had fallen. Her boots were so scuffed and damaged he wondered how the leather was still good. Some of the buckles were even broken.

Din cradled her for a moment, leaning to make sure she was still alive and then huffed softly as he looked around the room. He was going to have to risk getting her out of here the way he’d come in. 

He could _do_ it but it was going to be a tight fit and she was so out of it he didn’t even try to wake her. Still, he whispered.

“I’m here.” No more dark box, no more terror or fear. Just help and, if he could get her off the planet, _safety_.

Making it back to the _Star Razor_ , that was a whole other deal and she wasn’t as portable as say, Grogu, had been. He’d managed worse moments than this. He'd manage now.

She stirred a little in his arms but didn’t wake. He took off his cloak and wrapped her in it. Bent over with her head against his chest, he lifted his helmet a little, just the tiniest bit to whisper. It came out wonderingly, soft and awed.

“ _I_ _found you_.”

Grogu did not reach for his face.


	15. Thundersnow

_When nature stands in the way of progress, do not presume to stand in its way._

Nix stood watching the snow make the world an impenetrable wall of white outside the plastent as Namita made tea with small, delicate gestures. The small transport shuttle that had carried them and their troopers to the surface was grounded, for now.

“We will wait out the storm,” she said, not glancing at him. “Come, young Nix. The tea will settle you.”

He turned back to her and sighed, taking the offered cup gingerly.

“Thanks.” And then in a quieter voice. “You can feel her, right?”

“I can.” Her jade eyes narrowed as he sat next to the heater, an arm on the warm unit. “You’re slouching.” 

He straightened up with a frown.

“The signal stopped,” he said with a scowl and tapped his wrist a little as if that would make the beacon start up again. Now that they were here, he found himself impatient. Itchy. Cold. _Irritable_. He reminded himself _he_ had wanted this. To be part of the hunt first hand, to witness what it must feel like to take the enemy.

“That is why you brought me, I think.” She stretched and it was so feline all he could do was stare. “I am your failsafe, Nix. I always have been. You didn’t think interrogation was all I did.”

No, no he didn’t. There was always something more to this woman. Her ageless face, her nails, the way she easily put everyone in their places with a look or word. Trained by the Emperor himself, how could she ever _just_ be an interrogator? He didn’t even know how old she was. Older than him? Younger? He had a feeling asking was a bad idea.

Outside something snap-flashed and the ground shook with noise. Namita sipped her tea as if it was a calm summer day.

“Thundersnow,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. He was made for space and just stared wildly at her. “Thunder and lightning, _boy_ , in the middle of a snowstorm. Do they teach you nothing at the academy these days?”

 _Now_ , she sounded old.

And a little cranky.

What was he supposed to know about weather he’d never experienced? He ducked his head and sipped at his cooling tea, his face a little peaked. The plastent would keep them safe, he hoped, though _she_ seemed unconcerned. He supposed he should allow her to give him ques on how serious a situation might be but he’d never seen her so much as ruffled.

So they sat and had tea and she closed her eyes.

“The Jedi is a woman. Close to death but stubborn,” Namita’s voice startled him as he was almost asleep. “She may pull through. She is aware I am here, too, I sense. It is a strange meeting of the minds but she sleeps long.”

Any of _his_ sleepiness disappeared in the need to know how the krif she was able to tell so much from just _being on a planet_. She hadn’t even met the Jedi woman! He was dumbfounded with her skill.

Namita smiled.

“This, Nix, is why I was one of the Emperor’s Hands. I can feel the Force like a spider feels the vibrations of prey on its web. That’s one more reason I’m very, very good as an interrogator but I’m a better tracker than a great deal of Force-sensitives,” she said, almost off-hand like she was speaking to an old friend or a child. He kept an eye on her and saw the way her smile seemed to sharpen, her eyes wide a little, her pupils dilate. 

She looked insane but only when you really _looked_. Or maybe she was too sane. Was that a thing? 

He stopped looking because it was creeping him out. Nix held out his cup for more tea and she poured to the soft scraping click of her nails against porcelain and iron. 

-*-

The boy Captain was asleep. Namita Jin stood by the plastent’s window and watched the way the wind blew as if it could lead her to her quarry but she knew better than to let impatience seize her. With this one, patience would give her triumph. They were just beginning, after all. Success depended on much more than one assault or one mission. This one was to see if his Jedi was real or alive and that information had been already proven true.

She had sensed power. Waning power but it had been here for many years, failing and regaining strength time and again while the world changed, the universe changed. This was an unusual place to hide, Jin had to admit. This part of the moon was not exactly favourable when it came to survival. 

Long winters, short warmer periods did little when it came down to it. But, many years prior, it _had_ been a Jedi stronghold for the area, she had double-checked, so perhaps that’s why it had been an attractive option for hiding. No one would think about the ruins. Namita had not and she could not have searched this place as a Hand, she would have remembered.

As she stood watching the storm rip at the world, she cast her mind out once more like a seeker missile. She could _feel_ the woman in the Force. Not awake. Still dreaming of other things, still alive, though. There was so much to be done with a talent that papable in the Force, so many experiments to harvest that power.

It made her almost giddy even if she was not a scientist herself. Namita knew they were studying Force-sensitives. _They_ being the Imperialists. And to get their hands on the woman she sensed? Yes, that would be a victory, indeed.

Now, if the storm would let up, they could actually get started. This would not make her return without _some_ information that would help them on their quest. And it _was_ a quest.

They had been tasked with bringing a Jedi back with them, interrogation, testing, and whatever else might be needed was up to the now sleeping Captain. She hoped he would share no restraint. 

It meant her job would be so much more satisfying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My speed in getting these chapters up may change as I'm having surgery on Jan 12 and will be dealing with healing. I might not be as fast! Be sure, however, that I am writing on this fic every chance I can get. 
> 
> I also have fibromyalgia, so sometimes flares prevent me from doing all I want to do. Like I planned to get more than one chapter up yesterday but wound up resting all day. 
> 
> Please kudo and comment for me. <3
> 
> xxx  
> R.W. Winters


	16. The Test: Battleline

_When war there is, the true self do you see._

She _moved_ , lightsaber flashing, Master Windu beside her, to the back of her, deflecting laser bolts and flying droid heads. Bracer gave her a flippant smile and his gun chattered as he stayed by her side. Arha liked him already. Cheeky man, jovial, forever making jokes, but _sharply perceptive_ , that was Bracer as they advanced.

They were back to back at many points, she with her lightsabers, he with his blaster, and droids fell in all directions as they circled in advance. 

“So,” Bracer said, shooting a droid’s head off, “I think you might be the best Padawan I’ve seen with _two_ lighsabers.”

“What?” Arha stabbed another in its faceplate with both lightsabers and planted a foot to yank them out and kick the droid away, sending it smashing through another few with the Force. She deflected four more bolts, swung her lightsaber wide, and demolished three more by the time she turned back to him. 

“I said, it’s lucky I’m not a droid, sir!” Bracer said, the sound of his gun and the clash of armour half drowning out his words. “You’re _fantastic.”_

“Angling for a promotion, Bracer?” she asked as they made it to the wall. He crouched next to her and his helmet tipped to the side as if he were thinking about it.

“Only if it means I can take you out for some caf,” he said. “ _And_ I get reassigned to your unit when you’re a Knight.”

She almost choked.

“Ask me again after this mission’s over,” she found herself saying, “we’ll all need caf and company. I’m _sure_ we can work something out if you really want to be reassigned.”

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Bracer said and the smile was all up in his voice. It made her laugh again and she thumped him on the shoulder as they worked themselves along the wall. The rest of the troopers were taking her at her word, carefully demolishing droid forces with carefully aimed shots. It wasn’t a free-for-all, it was systematic destruction.

Good for them, terrible for the droids. It looked like the initial number was going to be easy for them, if they didn’t drop reinforcements.

Master Windu was a blur, smashing through his section as if they were nothing but bothersome pests as he turned searching for more. Vaapad served him well on the battlefield and he made it look elegant—not at all the swift staccato stabbing that the holotutor made it out to be. But maybe that was because the holotutor couldn’t reproduce the sheer fluidity of the Force. It wasn’t its fault, really. Watching the Jedi Master in motion was stupidly poetic and she just wanted to sit and watch, though she kept moving with Bracer.

It was hard not to look back. The Force gave her a nudge and it was Master Windu telling her to keep moving. That was okay, too, they were nearly there and then they _were_ there, slicing through the last few droids. She banged on the door of the dilapidated hangar twice.

“Someone ordered droid parts for pick up, right?” she called.

“Kark _me_ ,” a voice said, “you Jedi really are fast once you get here.”

“Force, Stats,” said someone else, “that’s a kriffing Jedi. You can’t say _kark_ to a Jedi.”

“I just did.”

“Take it back.”

“Why?”

“Boys, please get your _shebs_ _out here_. You can carry on while you’re headed home, right?” Arha said, deactivating her lightsaber. So far, they’d been lucky. No reinforcements from the droid army but that was something.

“Heh, she said _shebs_.”

As the door opened, she heard the _thonk_ of armoured plating against armoured plating. Someone, probably Stats, had just gotten thumped. Bracer was laughing beneath his helmet and muttering about how they were lucky he found that kinda funny or he’d have smacked a vod again.

“No casualties, sir. I mean, Tranq got his bell run a little but he says he’s fine. Anything else is all minor. We’re good for more fight if it comes to us. Brick, here, sir. Captain Brickhouse if you prefer. This lot, for what they’re worth, just call me Brick.”

“Thank you Brick. Let’s get your men out of here and back where they belong.” Arha clapped him on the shoulder and as she had with many of the clones, she had to raise up on her tiptoes to do it. 

He gently rested a hand on her shoulder in thanks and she smiled. The rest of the team followed them back to their transport. Bracer brought up the rear.

-*-

Mid-way back to Coruscant, they were rather abruptly rerouted to a small planet. Windu sat looking grim as he studied the planet’s holo entry. There was a creeping darkness about it that made her look to Windu as she shivered.

“That’s my test, isn’t it?”

“Yes. He said you would know it on sight.”

“There is a Sith Temple down there,” she murmured. “I can feel it and yet we’re just changing course. The Force says it’s going to open me wide. I can feel it.” 

“Arha, do not be afraid. Go, get some caf with your new friend Bracer. Find comfort and peace. Prepare hotpot, make dumplings as you did as an initiate.” His voice was soft and gentle. “I will join you.”

“Yes Master.” It was time to feed her soldiers, to let them know they were her family. They had not eaten yet and she was sorry to have kept them waiting.

She chopped vegetables and sliced meat, made dumplings with expertly folded corners, and found herself with company as she did it. The clones helped. So they made hotpot together, a jovial mess of jokes and hilarity that had her laughing the entire time. 

Bracer made her caf and pulled her aside with a wide grin.

“You still want to be transferred when I become a Knight?” she asked after blowing on the hot caf for a moment, eyeing him.

“Yes.” 

He came back with his own cup and gestured toward a booth.

“Okay.” She straightened, her blue eyes bright on his brown ones. “I’m taking a few of the boys down on planet with me, you can come and watch by back, Bracer. I have a really bad feeling about this planet. There’s Sith ruins on it.”

“Oh, man, you’re on Trial of Spirit?” he asked with a frown. “Gonna get rough down there for you, then.” He clasped her hand and smiled. “You get what you need done and we’ll be there to keep you safe.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled.

“Thanks, Bracer,” she murmured. “That means everything to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I love and respect [Have you eaten your fill?](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832875) by [verdant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/virdant/pseuds/virdant), so much, I am including this as headcanon for the Jedi. Please read and kudo this fic series, it's wonderful and inspiring.
> 
> I also want hotpot and dumplings dearly every time I read it.


	17. Resilience

_Be brave, be resilient, even when the very stars shake themselves from the skies._

He didn’t care about the storm, the winds, any of it. By the time he reached _Star Razor_ , it didn’t matter how cold he was or how stiff he felt. He just knew something had changed and he wanted to blast off this rock as fast as he could. It was a kriffing good thing the weather decided to play into his favour, he thought as he pulled down the camo and shook it out before rolling it back up and storing it inside the ship.

He’d put the Jedi woman, who had still not regained consciousness, in his own bed and wrapped her up, leaving his cloak around her. She seemed to have latched onto it and he didn’t have the heart to disentangle it from her. With a thump and a whirr, he was back aboard and flicking toggles and switches until the _Razor_ hummed with life.

Then he took off, punching them into hyperspace and towards a Mon Calamari medical centre he knew of that would be able to deal with her condition. He was only good for sitting by and hoping she’d wake up. 

Locking the coordinates in, he moved to the back and into his room. The doors opened and he pulled a chair to the left side of the bed and sat. She did not look as _jetii_ were supposed to look, if anything she looked as if the next wind would blow her away. 

Ahsoka had not looked this frail, nor had Luke Skywalker, but neither of them had been in cryo for years. This one? She looked like she might fall apart if he touched her.

It worried him. It worried him more that she hadn’t yet woken up despite the protocols being followed on the sheet.

“ _K_ ’ _oyacyi_ ,” he murmured very softly. “You wouldn’t lead me all this way just to have you die. Stay strong, _jetii_. I’m here and I’m not leaving you.”

-*-

The Jedi looked twice as small in the big medical beds, hooked up to wires and machines that told him nothing save her heart beat and she breathed. He paced impatiently until a Mon Calamari nurse touched his elbow and asked him to sit lest he disturb the rest of the patients. He sat reluctantly and watched her chest rise and fall before he took her small hand in his. It felt too cool, so he rubbed at it and frowned, not that anyone could see it with his helmet on.

He asked for another blanket for her somewhere into the third hour. Someone draped one around him and gave him a pillow close to the fifth hour. 

Din waited patiently, moving only a few times the check on the _Star Razor_ or speak to a doctor or nurse. Finally, he sat and took her hand in both of his, the leather of his gloves wrinkling slightly.

“ _Jetti_.” He shook her hand a little but she didn’t move. “I don’t know anything about the Force but I want you to know I’m not leaving. I’ll take a nap, like before,” he needed one, actually. He needed one _badly_. “Come talk to me there.”

He needed to know she was going to come out of this, so he scooted to the edge of the bed. Maybe it looked weird, some Mandalorian taking a nap with his helmet and armour on. But honestly? He didn’t care. 

Din’s eyes felt as if he’d been awake for years since Grogu had left and all the aches in his body seemed to catch up with him in a collective wash of weariness. His ship was fine, locked up tight, the _jetti_ was not fine but he was here for her. With a half huff of incredulity at all of this, he slept.

-*-

He dreamed the not-dream again only there wasn’t any danger, not really. Just the _jetti_ watching him with wide blue eyes, hair long hair undone, the wind catching it as he watched. She still didn’t see him. Her eyes were focused on a point beyond him.

“ _Can_ you see me?” he finally asked.

“I see you as the Force sees you,” she said, sounding cryptic. “Too much?” He huffed out a soft laugh. “When I wake, my eyes will not work for some time, I think. But it is not terrible. My sight will return in steps. There are other ways to see than with the eyes. I have always seen with the Force.”

“What…what do I look like?” he asked.

“Beautiful,” she said softly and he shifted uncomfortably. That word was not one he was used to at all.

“You shine with a gentle light that only grows stronger in the Force. You have been set upon a path that will take you down strange and twisting roads, put you through things you would rather not face but you won’t be alone. It is a path we shall _both_ walk.”

She lifted her hand and he took it wonderingly.

“You _are_ like your son. The bond between you has been very strong because you are both filled with the Force. He has been trained to harness it in certain ways, you have not.” She shook her head lightly and her wavy hair bounced. 

“But I’m too old,” he protested quietly.

“You are never too old to _learn_. Will it be more difficult? Perhaps but we will see.” Her hands were not smooth, he could feel fine scarring across her palms, from what he couldn’t tell. Her life had been difficult but weren’t all _jetti_ worked hard to learn their own Code?

“I have so many questions,” he said, his voice low as he stared into her cornflower blue eyes. “Are you a Master?”

“Once I was a Jedi Knight in the Clone Wars. Now? I don’t know what I am. Time has passed. Things have changed, the threat remains the same. The Sith _will_ rise again and threaten peace. But we will face them when it is time to do so. First, we have other things we must do.”

“Like getting you to wake up?”

She laughed.

“Sleep, Mandalorian,” she said softly. “Dream of peace.”

He did.


	18. Fearlessness

_Temper fear with reality._

The snow crunched under Nix’s boots in the utter silence of the snowfall’s end. Almost everything was muffled save for a trooper stepping on a dry branch. The crack of it seemed to echo like a slugthower’s report and all eyes were on him.

“Sorry,” he said, embarrassment written in the word and tone of his voice. “I don’t see anything out here except snow. If anyone passed this way, sir, the snow’s eaten it.”

“There’s got to be a better explain—” Nix started and was cut off as he abruptly stepped straight into a very deep snowdrift with a flailing shout.

Namita turned to witness the extraordinary sight of the young Imperial Captain disappearing like a baby chipmunk under the snow. 

“Sir?!” one of the stormtroopers cried out and started to dig around. “Ah, _Captain_ …”

Nix, still startled, felt a hand grab his arm, and then was hauled to the edge of the pit his body had made. He looked a little dazed and just sat there, cold, shivering, and wet.

“Find me,” he said, teeth chattering, “ _the Jedi woman_. Do it now. There _must_ be a trail. We must not fall behind."

That Jedi, alive, was worth his promotion. It was worth his _career_. They would not come back without a lead.

The snow began to fall harder once more and he cursed softly, following behind his exploration team. Let them fall in pits, he’d had enough adventure for the day. Maybe this was why he should have stayed on the _ISS Cutter_. Tramping around in the cold and wet was less fun than he’d thought it might be.

They found the deserted lab hours later and went back to the ship an hour after scouring the laboratory. Their quarry was gone. Namita seemed unaffected by the loss but found tissue samples and some hair, which she said was perfect. Perhaps they didn’t find their Jedi _yet_ but they knew she was alive and potent in the Force. And they also found a site where a ship had been parked, which meant one thing: She had been _helped_. Someone out there had the Jedi, maybe by complete accident, but they had her.

He wasn’t angry about it but he was intensely disappointed in the wake of the hunt. Namita assured him they would catch her and went to call in some favours.

-*-

“Bounty hunters.”

Nix sat at the edge of his chair in Namita’s office the thing kept trying to suck him under like some immense leather creature as Namita told him of her efforts to find the Jedi woman.

“With the hair and tissue samples we found, we have devised a tracking fob,” her fingernails raked the air in a claw and he nearly ducked. “It has been passed around _liberally_. We should have sightings at the very least, soon.”

“Good. But we must get to her quickly. I want no delay, she comes to us alive and as fast as possible. I want her detained.”

Frustration warred with distaste at _being_ frustrated, drawing his face into something of an angry rictus. He realised he was embarrassed and rose to stare out the viewport, his hand clenched in a fist.

“Yes, Captain. But you must be patient, work with your slicer team, get some sleep. Time will give us our prey,” Namita murmured. “She will not have the luxury of sleep once we find her.”

-*-

Captain Semtal Ness crossed her legs over an empty chair as Nix joined her. She stole a customary piece of vegetable and grinned, her eyebrow arched.

“Heya Rip. Shitty trip out in that frozen mudball, sorry to hear it,” she said, her voice low. He appreciated it and was still pissed about its conclusion. “Could have been worse, old intel, but it wasn’t, you got a live Jedi on the run. I hear Thrawn was _real_ intrigued.”

“I came up almost empty-handed, Sprite. I _should_ have had her.”

“Oh, kiddo. Bless your blaster, but this is how the hunt goes. They run, you chase hard after them. Look, you’ll get a sweet ride, your team. I hear Namita Jin is your aide?” He nodded, frowning. “Yeah.” She downed some of her ale. “You’ll be fine. You can’t imagine success is that easy. I mean, maybe sometimes, but your tips are good. You’ll find the Jedi.” 

“And if I don’t?”

“You’ll find another tip or another Jedi.”

“I want _this_ one.”

“I know, mate. I know. Just don’t beat your balls over something that might be the first step into a command style you’re going to regret. Pull up and think, Rip. Keep seeing the world the way you saw it before Command.”

She shifted and leaned to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“You’re gonna be fine. Stick to reality and all those what-ifs and could-bes can suck it. I gotta a staff meeting to get to, drop by my quarters later. We’ll look at your strategies, mm?”

He watched her leave, a little stunned.

Krif.

She _liked_ him.

Was she asking him to her quarters as a friend or— Oh. Too much for him right now. He focused on finishing his meal and then on his slicer team’s progress in tracking anything new being put into public systems. Data was easier on his brain than Sprite planting a kiss on his cheek.

But she had a point.

He couldn’t fear failure, he had to look at reality and plan his moves very carefully to get what he wanted out of it. His own team, a transport with hyperspace capability, Namita and her droids, her Force powers. Looking at it that way, with his might against a lone Jedi woman, what chance could she possibly have?

 _He_ had the high ground, the advantage, all of the cards. All she had was running in a futile attempt to escape the mighty hand of order. He was that fist crashing down into her nightmares. He would not allow that Jedi terrorist to further spread her ideas of chaos into the wide words beyond.


	19. The Test: The Temple of Truth & Lies I

_To face the darkness, you must become the light._

The Sith temple was lodged in the earth like a great pyramid of glass as if plunged into the thick jungle by an angry hand. The darkside was potent here, she could feel it roiling around like an inky serpent around her mind. All of stemmed from the black and red monstrosity that lie ahead of them. They couldn’t get the shuttle in any closer so Captain Brick, Killshot, Tranq, Stats, Mountain, and Bracer got out with her. All of them studied thier surroundings.

“I’ve got a kriffing _bad_ feeling about this,” Stats said. He flipped a large coin and it came up tails, he sighed, then flipped it five more times. “Ugh. Too many tails for good luck.”

“Maybe tails _is_ good luck,” Arha said, nudging him. His helmeted head swiveled and tilted. “Statistically speaking, you getting tails near every time is improbable.”

“I don’t like it,” he grumbled. “Means bad news.”

“Only if you let that sentiment guide your actions.” She put out her hand to ask for the coin. “The Force flows through all things, remember, _verd_? Even you. Change tails to something good and you shape your life differently.”

Arha flipped it.

It came up heads.

“Now, watch.” She flipped it again and again and it came up heads. “Influence the physics of the flip and you get heads _or_ tails each time.”

“You think I’m making it come up tails?” he asked as they walked, sweeping away jungle vines so they could pass by.

“You could very well be Force-sensitive. When we are finished with this, we can do something about testing you to see.” She gave him back the coin and could feel the wave of awe and hope that came from his emotions. 

“Well, _kar_ _—_ err, damn,” he corrected himself. “ _Tion’meh_ _…_ ” he murmured. 

Yes, Arha thought, _what if_. She could practically see credits in his T-visor and laughed.

-*-

They stopped to break for lunch when the suns were at or near their zeniths, the air heavy with pungent earth scents, fresh soil, and growing green things. Perspiration saturated every inch of them and left Arha feeling every piece of grit that hit her and stuck. The humidity was oppressive and seemed to weigh down their efforts to reach the Temple. It was like the damn thing kept moving further and further out of their reach. That, Arha supposed, was the darkside, fooling their minds. It felt oily and made her wish for a shower so badly it ached. There was so much hate, anger, sadness, and pain that radiated from that Light forsaken monument of terror. 

She stopped, bent over for a moment, and then straightened as Captain Brick caught her by the elbow in concern.

“I’m alright. The closer we get to that thing, the more emotion and I have to fend off.” Right now it was making her stomach roil in agitation and nausea. “Master Yoda sent me on this course. I _must_ see it through.”

She wondered why he hadn’t come himself. He was her mentor but he was also the Grandmaster, he had more important things to do than even watch his Padawan take her final test. 

Arha looked up to the sky where Master Windu was probably sitting aboard the _Sapphire_ , doing what he needed to do to get them to the next rendezvous point. Here she was with the loudest Jedi she had never known on the loudest planet, with the loudest Sith temple grating at her senses. 

It was _horrible_.

The clones clustered around her, their hands finding some part of her to lend their comfort. She looked up at them, touched, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“We’re with you,” Bracer said squeezing her hand.

“You can do this,” Tranq whispered on her right. “I can see if giving you an antiemetic might help. You look like you could use some.”

“If you don’t feel like walking, I’ll give you a ride,” a soldier who went by Mountain said, taking off his helmet to grin at her.

“Hey, you’re not facing that thing alone.” Stats scratched the back of his neck and shook his head. “We _vod_ are here to kriffin make sure you kick the kark out of that thing’s _shebs_. Or…whatever you have to do.”

“I got your back Masaari,” Killshot said, the only one looking into the forest and not at her. His hand was touching her side just a little but he was alert for anything that might come at them. “You do your thing, _jetti_.”

She leaned into them with a sigh.

“You’re right,” Arha said softly. “ _Ori’vor’e_ _,_ _vod’e_.” 

“Hey, _jetti_ ,” Mountain asked, patting her head lightly, “why does that thing always seem so far away? Like it doesn’t want to invite a vod in?”

“I think,” she murmured, nudging them on as she stepped out of their embrace, Bracer was the last to let go, “there’s some sort of perception filter masking its true location. Give me a moment and I’ll see if I can locate it.”

She closed her eyes and consulted the Force which filled her to the brim with peace as washed out the red and blackness that dominated the jungle atmosphere. Each of the clones fanned out around her in a protective circle, letting her lead the way until they found a nearly jungle reclaimed tower. Roots and tendrils had half pulled it down but whatever was making the Sith temple seem farther away was still active inside it.

She ripped it out with the Force and then crushed it.

“Sith _hells_ ,” Stats murmured. “Remind me to never make you angry.”

Arha paused and turned to him, smiling.

“I would never willingly hurt any of you _vod’e_. Be at peace on that. If I am rushing at you, it is to keep you safe. I will not lose my new family so easily.”

She leaned up to thump Stats’ helmet and laughed.

“I told you she was special,” Bracer said quietly. “A _jetti_ who cares very much what happens to us.”

“Every clone is their own self,” Arha said, striding forward towards the Temple. “All of you matter. Every last one of you.”

The Temple rose before them gleaming in the sunslight, the black of it as dark as blood.

Brick stopped them and before he could stop himself gathered her into his arms. She hugged him back.

“Come back a Knight,” he said softly. Bracer winked and kissed her temple, Mountain gave her an almost bone-crushing hug, Killshot grunted and whipped out a salute.

“Give em _jetti_ hell,” Stats said, taking off his helmet and seconding the salute. “We’ll be right here for as long as it takes.”

Tranq saluted her as well and she drew in the Force to release the overwhelming need to shed tears at how much her new friends cared. No matter what, she’d come out of this and back to them in triumph. Masters Yoda _and_ Windu were here with her in their own ways. She had the teachings and wisdom of both to get her through this trial.

And, more importantly, she had faith in herself.

The Sith Temple was long abandoned but the corridors echoed pain and rage all the same the way they now echoed the sound of her boots on polished black floors. The light of the suns came in bloody, shafts of it illuminating the ancient temple in fragments. The jungle itself refused to touch the shard of darkness that had invaded its land. It drew back, leaving bare, black earth devoid of moisture, cracked and broken into fissures where there should have been nothing but life.

Arha took a few steadying breaths. There was something in there, something important. Something _unusual_ —she could sense the Force directing her to it, deep within the temple itself. She moved fluidly forward, leaving her squad to guard the entrance while she disappeared into the shadows.

This was her trial of spirit.


	20. To See the Stars

_Patience is the road to peace._

She was still asleep when Din woke but he sensed, somehow, that she was getting better each moment, getting stronger, healing from whatever damage was done that bacta couldn’t fix. Her fingers had even closed around his own as if to reassure him that she wouldn’t stay like this forever. _Somehow_ , he knew that instinctively. There wasn’t any reading into it, that’s just how it _was_. At this point, he knew better than to question it.

“ _Jetii_ ,” he murmured to her knowing she’d hear him. “I’m going for food. Don’t do something stupid. Wake, if you have to, just don’t go too far. I’m coming back, I promise.”

Din rose carefully and wondered if she did wake how quickly he’d know about it. Like Grogu, their connection seemed _strong_ and with what she’d been telling him, he might be or _was_ (part of him remained sceptical) sensitive to the Force.

Very sensitive, it seemed, maybe more than he thought possible.

She was the only _jetii_ he knew at this point. Ahsoka wasn’t reachable, Luke Skywalker was with Grogu, and he had a thousand questions he wanted answered _yesterday_. They were only going to be answered when she woke or he fell asleep. The falling asleep was becoming worrisome. How could he be vigilant if he was so exhausted?

The niggling ‘what if she never woke up’ stayed there as well as he grabbed some food. He wanted her awake to talk to, now, more than ever and mostly because the longer she slept the worse he feared something might happen—to her or to him. It put worry into him the longer he was away and he found himself hurrying back to sit with her, anxiety rushing through him.

“Be at peace. She is improving,” the Mon Calamari nurse said as he sat. “And dreaming.” He pointed at a section of data. “This is much healthier than when you arrived, see? Her fingers curl and relax as well, she breathes much more freely. Surely it will not be long now before she is up and awake. She will be very hungry, then.” 

The nurse nodded warmly.

“We can move her to a private room where you can both sleep in peace. You need not sit and sleep at her bedside when you could have a comfortable suite.”

“That would be,” he tilted his buy’ce slightly and the helmet shone, “very helpful and kind, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Mandalorian.” The Mon Calamari paused, unhooking leads and tidying up before blinking his large eyes up at Din. “You may walk with us.”

The antigrav motor kicked on and the healer guided them around the corner and down the corridor to a double suite reserved for family or in this case, friends. There was a full bed for him to stretch out on and a security door that he and the medical staff alone would have access to—something that made him breathe a sigh of relief. Once the nurse hooked his patient back up again, he left, lowering the lights and let the security door lock behind him.

It was a good feeling, secure.

Din checked the whole little suite for electronics but found no security cameras in the room. He would be safe, _they_ would be safe, and he carefully removed all of his armour but his buy’ce. He had slept in it many times before, especially when he was young, and while he wanted very much to have the softness of a pillow against his cheek, he didn’t trust that a doctor or nurse wouldn’t need to check on their patient.

He pushed the bed closer to hers and curled up facing her, a blaster in hand. Armour or no armour, no one was going to kill the _jetii_ when he was right there. He watched her breathe until the sound of it sent him to sleep.

-*-

And so he dreamt of her.

She had become the strangest attachment, a burc’ya vaal burk’yc, even. A friend in _need_. This time, they sat in a peaceful space with many fountains, on cushions. Her scent was that of wildflowers and green things, honeysuckle and jasmine. She was levitating a cup and a stone, twirling them around each other.

“I don’t even know your name,” he said.

Her smile was soft.

“Arha Masaari.”

“Din Djarin, _Jetii_ Masaari.”

“Arha,” she said, her cornflower blue eyes opening, the corners of them crinkling as she smiled. “Just Arha, burc’ya Din Djarin.” He let out a sigh he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“Just Din, Arha.”

“Have I earned the right?” she asked, dipping her head gently.

“That you ask earns you that right. Will you teach me the Way of the Force?”

“I will do more, Din. Your Resol’nore, your Creed, as a Mandalorian and the Jedi Code are not so dissimilar. There is a way to follow both without breaking the Way. I respect your people too much to ask you to choose, so, we will find our own path along yours.” 

Her fingertips stopped just short if his cheek. He could feel how much she wanted to complete the action—respect held her back— and he shivered uncertainly. Her fingers angled down to touch his gloved knuckles instead. 

“You’d do that?” he asked, startled. “For me.”

“Of course I would. If I were to learn the Way and take it as a part of my life, would you not take me in and teach me? We must find ways of keeping two similar codes of conduct alive when there are so few of us left.”

He took her hand and very nearly clutched it.

“Wake up,” he demanded. “Wake up and speak with me face to face, then we will discuss this.”

He woke up.

She did not.

“Arha. _Jetii_.” He reached out and touched the middle of her forehead before sighing, rolling over, and letting sleep claim him again. He did not dream of her in the Force, not like they had talked before, but instead dreamt of uniting the clans _with_ her.

It felt like no dream he had ever had before.

It _felt_ like a true thing.


	21. The Imperialist's Fob

_It is the middle of a long silence that one finds the answers they seek._

The night was fragrant with star jasmine and purple jhana lily that filled the air with a delightfully sweet and spicy mix when Namita Jin set her transport down at the starport on Janus IV, an inconsequential planet in an inconsequential sector of the galaxy. 

Unlike her new Captain, she was free to come and go from the _ISS Cutter_ in her own time and did so regularly to make sure her information was solid and, perhaps more, to get away from the buzz of the busy ship. For the next few days or perhaps weeks, this was her outpost, her home away from home, as it were.

She relished her time away from the spotless interior of the Imperialist ship, she couldn’t help it. There was such a thing as too much perfection or _sameness_. Not all perfection was the same, she noted, not all of it was colourful, either. But all the white and black, the Imperial grey that even she wore on occasion, it mostly bored her. 

It was why her nails were red and her lips were painted in the same colour. It was why her long white hair was plaited with a few elaborate hairpins holding the tresses in place and she had worn a cloak of emerald green and a silvery green gown. She would not be bored this evening, that was for certain.

It was also, she thought, always a good idea to have a touch of vacation from Order as much as it brought clarity and a sense of rightness to its citizens. The rest of the universe was far from such perfection, saturated in chaos and shades of often contrived violence. One might say it was the colour and spice of life, something she never had much to do with given her current company’s preferences. Perhaps she even thought it was a bit precious. Here everyone clung to their individuality so tight they often broke themselves.

The rooms she had taken were adequate and like many others in the desert town of Kuula, unremarkable and incredibly dusty. She watched the local traffic, mostly speeders and small transports with interest, waiting for the bounty hunter who had taken it upon themselves to reach back to her personally. It showed promise and initiative on their part at the very least, something Namita valued quite a bit as an operative.

She waited patiently and in focused meditation, stretching herself out in the Force languidly until it was time to move once more. Her patience was a reward in itself, giving her peace and quiet without any interruption.

At last, her comm chirped and she rose to dress for tea and a bite to eat.

-*-

 _The Yowling Bantha_ was not the most auspicious name for a cantina but it did make for a moment of amusement. There was something of the comedic in the name that seemed to apply greatly to the cantina owner as well. Perhaps it was because he was a brightly dressed Gungan. No one seemed to like Gungans these days—their species was used as an insult more often than she’d realised if the banter going on in this place was any indication. They were floppy gangly things but she had to admit, their ears were rather lovely and they tended to adopt a fluid movement that was enjoyable in some respects.

She was fine with a back corner of the cantina’s booths and unsurprised by the masked bounty hunter’s appearance. It was typical, well cared for, and this style of helmet wasn’t unusual in the hundreds of years it had been in use. They were dressed in neutral colours, the browns, tans and reds of the desert around them.

“Your quarry is with the Mon Calamari healers, I have heard. Still working on an exact location. Someone will talk,” the bounty hunter said, inclining their head a little. The visor had a view-slit and she caught a pair of red eyes staring out at her. Perhaps Chiss with the way they seemed to glow or perhaps they were even Pantoran. The Force said _Chiss_ was the better guess.

Excellent, someone unusual to hunt the unusual. She pushed a very full bag of credits to the middle of the table and gestured neatly.

“For your trouble,” Namita murmured, a soft smile lighting her usually chiselled features. “So far, you’ve been the only one to come to me with this information. Mind, I do want the woman _alive_.” 

She paused sensing curiosity in the air between them. Not quite the usual bounty hunter, then. Even better. Unconventional was one of Namita’s favourite things about the universe.

“For study, if it means anything to you.”

They paused, too, and there was a hint of satisfaction in their voice.

“I can arrange that. I have heard rumours that she is not even conscious but they are rumours. Data entry notes change. I will slice the databanks a few more times and follow leads. You will not be disappointed.”

“I should hope not.”

“The next meeting, here?” The helmeted head tilted to the side in a curious motion.

“Yes. The same hour will be sufficient. Progress will be rewarded handsomely, as it was this time.”

“Of course, Lady Jin. It will be as you wish. Apprehension may be difficult if she is confined by healers in a ward but I will do what is necessary.”

Namita looked thoughtful.

“Do try not to murder anyone. There has been such excess death in the galaxy of late, adding more would only be a tragedy.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

-*-

So, Namita thought long after her new bounty hunter had gone, an _unconscious_ Jedi. Fascinating. It had been some time since their little incursion and the loss of the Jedi woman, surely she would have been able to get herself together by now.

It appeared their Jedi was weak, perhaps exposure or something else had made her vulnerable but it made Namita both suspicious and curious all at once. Of course, all she could do was speculate as she sipped her hot tea in the pre-dawn of a new day. Her bounty hunter, the best of them it seemed, would get her more information and perhaps the Jedi herself soon enough. If not, well, she had been a Hand. If the hunter failed, perhaps she herself would go and see this mission through alone.

She was far more ruthless a foe than any Bounty Hunter, even if she forbade killing this time. Next time, perhaps she would be in a less light mood. It all depended on her mood. She glanced down at her tea and smiled, her jade eyes vivid in the swirl of cream. Mercy was not something she had much use for these days but in the end, Imperialism would win.

The result of the Empire's loss, that of infinite chaos and lawlessness, well, it was utterly uncivilised. That needed none of her mercy but neither did it need more death. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies at the abrupt gap in uploading. Life got in the way.
> 
> I'm working on two more chapters as I upload this, so never fear, more is coming. As a reminder, I have a surgery on January 12 but will endeavour to give you something satisfying to read in the meantime. 
> 
> For those of you having a difficult time due to the frightening events in the United States, I wish you all the best. Please sit down with me and travel to a galaxy far, far away.
> 
> All my love and be safe.
> 
> Kudo and comment if you're enjoying!
> 
> xxx  
> R.W. Winters


	22. The Test: The Temple of Truth & Lies II

_Be the light and the shadows will retreat._

Her lightsaber hummed, casting gold light as she reached out with the Force to find the power source that controlled the lights. The subtle harmony of energy in the room told her generators had come online as soon as she’d entered. There were filters that popped on and cool air that came through vents.

The temple was ice already, part of her wanted to go straight back outside if just to warm up but that was the part of her that was apprehensive about moving deeper into the Temple. She had to trust the Force that she was moving in the right direction. The disturbances were many, like shadows in the Force, thick eddies that pulled her off the path. It made her all the more determined to set her path right again.

The hate always startles her, the pain makes her want to soothe it away. She has always been a healer in some capacity even when she was very young. But echoes she cannot heal or soothe. They remain long after the events that made them, so she does her best to release her anxiety about them into the Force. She wishes she could scrub it all away. This, too, she cannot do as she walks dimly lit corridors, touching nothing.

It was a rule, she thought, not to touch anything in a Sith Temple, too in a Jedi Temple. She is reminded of Master Jocasta Nu and her carefully kept records where everything in just-so from the artefact wings to the information pucks and datapads. No touching unless you were directed to touch—especially the artefacts.

It was not until the forty-fifth room that the floor became an issue.

It began with a soft click that made her freeze where she was. Instinctively she ducked and found herself set into motion as the whole room seemed to come unmoored around her. Nausea rolled through her and she shuddered, gripping her lightsaber tightly and focusing herself in order to breathe through the massive disorientation. 

_It’s just like space_. _Like antigravity._ She’d done fine with that in training and it hadn’t affected her with nausea at all. Perhaps a distortion field of some kind. That would make more sense. Something heavy sliced through the air and she whipped her lightsaber up lopping the tops off a line of spiked projectiles as she pushed them away with the Force. Twisting in the air, she saw a blinking box and headed towards it.

That was when gravity increased.

She hit the floor hard and rolled back up into a fighting stance, slicing through or knocking away whatever was in her path as she worked toward the corner of the room where the box was now partially covered by debris. Something sharp had cut her—pain sang out as she moved and there was a decent amount of blood coming from the wound on her left shoulder. It wasn’t that bad but she stopped to rip her tunic and tie it off the best she could. Nothing particularly vital was hit at least. She could feel asl much through the Force. 

The gravity changed again when she was almost there and she flailed a little, directing herself in slight movements until she had her hands on the box and deactivated the distortion field and then turned the gravity normal again.

Her stomach flipped and she took a moment to let herself breathe once more. The roiling nausea was worse but she stood and concentrated, pushing the physical complaints down so she could concentrate on what really mattered—the world around her and the next steps she would have to make. Following the Force, she worked her way into the next room and saw it.

On a daïs across the room, sitting on what could only be an altar, sat a pyramidal shape gleaming in red with black lettering on it. Nothing happened as she strode toward it save the fact that she felt lightheaded, almost faint.

The halls echoed with death and fear. She did not give in to the whispers that tried to drag her down because that would be giving into the temptation of the dark side, those eddies of pain and fear and anger. Her fingers closed over the object, which she tucked into her robes. She trembled for a few moments, a little out of breath now, her fingers in her left hand felt almost nerveless.

No. She was going to be fine. She’d be a Knight, sworn before the council, and then one day she’d be a Master with padawan learners of her own. Arha forced herself to move, retracing her steps. When she found herself once again a the beginning, she staggered out into the refreshingly warm jungle. 

It was Bracer who caught her when she fell.

“ _Dank_ _ferrik_ ,” he said. “Tranq! Hey, _jetii_. Come on, open your eyes, you made it back.” Her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried to focus on Bracer’ face. “Hey, _hey_ there. Tranq’ll take a look and see what’s going on alright? I got you.”

The two clones looked at each other and Tranq frowned, scanning and taking readings before slapping a bacta patch on the shoulder wound.

“Some,” she breathed, “sort of toxin. Get me up. To the ship. To Master Windu. Important.”

“You heard her. Let’s move!” Brick said and he had them charging through the evening light at a heavy pace, already relaying the incident through the comm. For once, Bracer wasn’t bringing up the rear, he was charging ahead towards their transport with Arha’s slight weight pressed against his chest. By the time they got there, she was burning up, delirious, and the bacta patch was only treating the wound, which was growing smaller and would be fine in an hour or two.

She didn’t even realise she was aboard the _Sapphire III_ until Master Windu was leaning over her in medbay, his expression worried. She struggled with her robe and produced the pyramid.

“Don’t,” she swallowed thickly, “don’t touch it with your bare hands. Thick gloves. Could be. It could be poisoned, too.” He looked impassive for a moment and nodded, using a thick towel Bracer gave him. Bracer who refused to leave. Stats hovered as well, locked into guard mode as he flipped his coin uneasily.

Arha fell into a deep trance and drop by drop worked to expel the toxin. Master Windu helped as well but by the time he joined in, after reporting to Master Yoda, that she _knew_ , Arha was calm, unafraid, and focused. If she was to die from this poison, she had done everything she could to get what she sensed was an important piece of technology to her Jedi comrades. That alone was enough.

The rush of energy that was Windu’s she found she had to temper with her own and together they worked to push the poison out where the bacta had failed. His strength augmented her finesse and the poison wept from her pores.

“You found a Sith holocron,” Master Windu said hours later. He looked as exhausted as she felt. “And some very valuable records. Your efforts to retrieve this artefact are worthy of a Knight, Arha Masaari. I had expected you to bring the clones with you.”

She smiled.

“Master Windu, I didn’t want them hurt. Besides, I learned a valuable lesson. No matter when it comes, facing death should be done with calm and without fear. When it is my time, I know I will become one with the Force.”

“That is one interpretation, yes. Rest,” the master said as quietly as he could, “rest and reflect upon what has happened today and why it has made you worthy of becoming a Jedi Knight but also consider what could have been done differently.”

“Yes, Master Windu,” she murmured but they were both smiling.

-*-

“You okay?” Bracer caught up with her in the mess a few hours later, settling his tray across from hers at the corner table she had simply made her own. Arha glanced up at him and grinned, tugging at her padawan braid.

“Nothing a good nap couldn’t cure, Bracer.” He reached across the space to take her hand and she let him. He needed the contact and he clearly _cared_. Her eyes traced his face and her own wore curiosity. “Bracer?”

She squeezed his hand gently to bring him back from wherever he had gone. He blinked at her for a moment and swallowed hard.

“Sir,” he said quietly. “I’m here.”

“Tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours,” Arha murmured. “You blipped out on me, _vod_.”

“I should have gone with you,” Bracer said, almost flushing with embarrassment. “We all should have. You almost died.” As she tilted her head in question his jaw muscle twitched.

“I know you’re _fine_ but—” He cut himself off in annoyance. “I’ve seen people like you die before. It shouldn’t happen to _you_.”

“Everything dies,” she said softly, wrapping her other hand around his. “My life as a Jedi may be long or short but it is better knowing you care enough to come to me about it. I’m sorry I worried you, Bracer.”

“And me,” Stats said very quietly, setting his tray down next to Arha’s. “Captain Brick said we needed to stay or I think we would have all gone in after you. But you did good, this time. Next time, we’re going with you.”

“It was a _Sith Temple_ ,” she said almost gently. “Had you come, there might have been something far worse in store for all of you. I trust your abilities but this _was_ my trial of spirit. I had to do it alone. There were other paths that I might have taken if you had come with me but we might have all ended up dead. I couldn’t risk all of you.”

“What’s the _use_ of us then?” Stats asked. “We’re soldiers, there to help protect you and help you complete your mission. Not stand around and wait for you to—” He waved a hand. “To come out _half -dead_.”

His eyes found Bracer’s and they locked for a moment, unspoken words shared in that look. She leaned into Stats a little and sighed softly.

“I see the error. I completed the mission and yet failed with my troops,” she murmured. “While the information I gathered makes me a Knight, I have so much more to learn in being a General. You’re right, both of you. I should have kept Killshot on the door, taken you and Bracer and had Tranq wait for me a little further in. Mountain should have been running perimeter. I was too focused on following the Force.”

It might have gone smoother if she’d done it that way. Weighing the op from hindsight made her realise what a mess it had been. Successful, yes, but messy from a tactical standpoint.

“It’s done, _jetii_ ,” Bracer said. “But that’s how I would have liked it to have been. We’re your team. We need to be involved in keeping you safe no matter what your mission is, Padawan or Knight. Just…remember we’re there to help you. You can’t keep us out of danger by having us stay away from you.”

She rose, leaned across the table and kissed Bracer on the temple, then did the same with Stats who flushed immediately.

“Thank you _vod’e_.” She bowed her head to them both, her red-gold hair catching the light as she did so. “I truly would be lost without you.” 

Her voice dipped even softer.

“I understand the lesson.”

Bracer lifted her chin.

“Good. Respectfully, sir, I don’t want to lose you because of some ridiculous strategic mistake, you got it? Besides, I haven’t seen a Jedi I’ve liked as much as you in a long time. I plan on keeping you in one piece.” 

His eyes said an awful lot more than that. One mission with these guys and she was lost to them and they were lost to her. Force knew they were going to be stuck with each other, hopefully, for a long time to come.

-*-

“Hold still just for a minute and relax,” Arha said softly, her hands cupping Stats’ temples as they stood in her room at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. “You don’t have to do or think anything at all.”

He flinched a little and she kissed the tip of his nose, which made him laugh and flush.

“Easy, Stats, I won’t bite.” 

She nudged around in his mind until she found the little nub she was looking for and pushed. She was immediately shoved back a few steps and grinned.

“Did I do that, sir?” he asked, startled and already reaching to help her.

“You did. It’s a Force reflex. Like someone checking if your knee jerks. And if it jerks, well, you’ve a proper reflex.” 

“That’s kinda wild,” Stats said, his voice a little awed.

“I suppose it is a bit,” she murmured thoughtfully. “But, I think locating a trigger point to test possible Force-sensitives is also kind of fabulous. It definitely means you’re trainable with the response I got. It also means you’re joining me for meditation in the morning.”

“Yes, _sir_.”

Bracer, Brick, and Tranq had it as well. Killshot and Mountain did not. Bracer was comparable to Stats, Brick and Tranq had a much weaker push but they were _there_. Nothing at all happened with Killshot or Mountain and both seemed relieved. Afterwards, they all joined her for some hotpot. She looked at her family and smiled.

“Master Yoda says,” she said with a brilliant smile, “now that I’m Knighted, I can formally take you all on as my personal guard.” She pushed more meat onto Killshot’s plate and he flashed a grin. “I know I couldn’t ask for a better squad than all of you.”

“Nor could we have asked for a better _jetii_ to lead us,” Captain Brick said with a nod and a smile. “Even the hotpot is spot on, sir.”

-*-

“Meditate with your clones, do you?” Master Yoda asked, his ears lifting slightly. “Interesting this is. Helpful, do you find it?”

“I think it helps them prepare for the day as much as it does the same for me,” she said, pouring tea into two cups and offering one to Master Yoda. He took it thoughtfully. 

“After our first mission, I thought it prudent to test them for Force sensitivity based upon several factors I had observed. It is my belief that Captain Brick, Stats, Bracer, and Tranq are all sensitive.” Master Yoda paused in drinking for a moment. “The strongest are Stats and Bracer. Brick and Tranq are very mildly gifted. Mountain and Killshot are not sensitive at all.”

“Clones? Force-sensitive? _Hrmm_. Test them again, I shall, to see if correct you are.” He caught the slightly stricken expression on her face and patted her hand. “Doubt you I do not. Grandmaster _you_ are not. If Force-sensitive they are, much to discuss will the Council have.”

“I will advocate for them,” she said immediately.

Master Yoda nodded a little, taking his time with the tea before responding.

“You shall. As will I, my former Padawan. A good development this will be if trained they can be. Carefully must this go.”

“Master,” she murmured, her lips brushing her tea cup’s rim, “will they be alright?”

“Your clones, unharmed will they be. Peace, you must find. No harm to them will come. Find relief in this, you must. Teach them, perhaps you will. _Mrrm_.”

“I hope I get to teach them. They’ve already taught me a great deal. It would be a great honour.”

“To the Council a report you must compile, your reasons for taking them as Padawan you must give. Much responsibility you will have as General.” Master Yoda tapped his cup lightly. “More will it be if train clones you must. Which of these would rather you do? Train or fight?”

“If it is one or the other, I would train them, Master. But with the rising conflict, we must do both.” She frowned a little, thinking, “There is no room to do one or the other. Time is too pressing.”

“A point you have. Pressing time _is_. A solution you may have in training and fighting. Close will your squadron be to you, Knight Arha. A family they will become. Prepared for eventual separation you must be. Live long clones do not.”

It wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on.

“They will live and prosper well under my care. It doesn’t matter how long you live, Master, but _how_ you live. So far, I am pleased with how they’ve conducted themselves in and out of battle situations. Aside from Captain Brick, Stats and Bracer most notably, but they’re all fine soldiers. I couldn’t have asked for finer men.”

“ _Mmn_ ,” Master Yoda said, still thoughtful. “Yes, much discussion the Council will have. Much. Compose your reasons, Knight Arha, now and tomorrow the Council we will face. Alone you will not be. Your new friends, ready will they be for the inspection I must make?”

“They’ll be ready, Master, and so will I,” she said softly but firmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please have some [lovely art](https://anelegantoffense.tumblr.com/post/639793825831911424/comm-for-singsenochian-of-din-djarin-and-her-oc) of Arha and Din.


	23. A Tooka For Your Thoughts?

_Listen to the universe around you, the Force calls you in whispers of light._

Jedi stuff, he thought. That’s what she was doing still asleep. All sorts of Jedi stuff and then somehow roping him in when he slept. The old argument rolled through his mind again, that he wasn’t sensitive to this _Force_ and still didn’t know about any of this space wizardry. Ahsoka Tano, her light-swords? All of that was complete Bantha poo doo, what would it ever have to do with him? Except there was _Grogu_ and now Arha and they both had an awful lot to do with the Force.

He wanted to—to pick up the next Bounty puck and get on with his life? Yeah, something like that. It had been predictable, easy in its own way. Take puck, find person, bring them in alive or dead. He’d had a covert to feed, clothe, and protect, _and_ he’d been kriffing good at it. Now, they were scattered and he knew he couldn’t just leave Arha to whatever her fate was without him. He’d found her and it was clear the _jetii_ wouldn’t survive long without him as she was.

Din growled softly as he finished the last set of maintenance protocols on the _Star Razor_ , which was the only thing keeping him sane between bouts of extreme exhaustion. He knew it was Grogu’s absence affecting him so deeply, causing him to sleep and wake and he just wanted to know how his son was doing, if he was happy. Had he learned something new? Had he done something with the Force that would have made him boggle at the little guy’s powers? 

Probably. 

It made his chest ache and he put down his spanner for a moment. Throwing himself into _Jetii_ Arha’s problems was a balm, a way to keep himself adrift in the yawning chasm Grogu had left behind. It was as much a job as uniting the clans.

He thought back to the dream and shivered, clenching his fist uneasily before trying to relax. The hum of the engines was reassuringly even and he’d finished what he could for the day. She had been there, awake, fighting with him, her weapons glowing gold, her blue eyes bright, and she had moved with a strange tranquility with and around him.

He took a tray from the mess hall and returned to the suite that had been set up for them. Arha was curled up on her side, her knees tucked to her chest, looking small and fragile in sleep but mostly he wanted to yell about how she’d changed positions. 

That was _new_.

Din sat on the edge of her bed and watched her take a sudden, sharp breath before letting it out with a sigh. That was also the moment he realised they were not alone. There was movement in her arms and a little tooka’s head popped out.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” he breathed. “Where’d you come from?”

“Yowww?” the tooka replied. One second thought, maybe it was a Loth-cat. It was almost the same colour as Arha’s hair with lighter cinnamon stripes and a big fluffy tail.

“We’re not keeping you.”

“Yow?” The cat padded over and head-butted Din, then rubbed itself all over his arm. Krif _him_.

“I mean it. You have to go.”

“Oww yoww?” It gently pounced on his fingers.

“Stop that.” 

_Manda’lor,_ it was purring. Loudly. It wasn’t cute, he refused to think of it as cute. It curled itself around his wrist and kicked at the beskar, he huffed softly. If anyone would attract a Loth-cat or tooka, he was pretty certain Arha would. She seemed like she was good with animals or would be good with them. And now he was blessed with a Loth-cat. Kitten. Whatever it was. 

Tooka?

Loth-cat?

Were they the same thing?

He carefully picked it up and approached the communit, then pushed the button.

“I, uh, hey there…” he said, “I think someone lost their tooka or loth-cat. I walked in and it was curled up with my companion.” There was silence and a little static for a while, then a cheerful voice answered him.

“We’ll check around. A nurse might come by as well.” He wondered how many that actually meant. “It might be hungry. How’s your friend doing?”

“She’s curled up on her side,” he said. “That’s positive. She might just be asleep, now.” Which meant she’d have to wake up. Right? The sooner she did, the better he’d feel about their chances of doing anything else. 

He watched her for a while from where he stood, ignoring the little loth-cat creature as it climbed to perch on his shoulder with a trilling _yow_.

“Very positive! I’ll send the doctor in, then, to take a look at her.”

“Good.” 

Din sighed and dragged a chair over between the two beds. The loth-cat jammed its head against his helmet a few times and that sigh became a groan.

“Why.” He picked up the cat and put it down on the bed with Arha. “Go on. She’s the one you like.”

“Brrpt?” the loth-cat said trying to play with his hands again. “ _Yowww_.”

Why did these things happen to him? Where had it even _come from_? How had it gotten in? With a nurse? Twenty minutes of checking the room for entrances or hidey-holes and the main door slid open to reveal a humanoid doctor. Din realised he was pointing a blaster directly in its face and slowly lowered the weapon.

“Sorry,” he said. “Habit.”

“You’re just trying to keep your companion safe,” it murmured, gliding over to the bed to take a look at the readouts. “I can imagine that it would be difficult to trust anyone in a situation like this, Mandalorian, much less in a galaxy with such poor manners.”

“It is,” Din admitted, watching it check Arha very gently. His heart almost stopped when she stirred a little and he had to check himself to stay still.

“As for the loth-cat, no one has reported one missing. I do believe you may have made another friend.”

Din sighed. 

“ _Yowww_ ,” the cat responded and padded around until it decided Arha’s hip was its new resting place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for a little while. I'm not quite certain when the next will be written since I have surgery Tuesday.
> 
> Much love.
> 
> xxx  
> R.W. Winters


	24. Hunter & Quarry

_A good hunter is more than an arrow._

It moved quietly through the alleyways, not a footstep to be heard despite their heels on the flagstones, the only sound a rustle of fabric. They were a dark shape in the evening light that was there and then not. Over the years it had gotten good at blending in with aliens and humans alike, nondescript, simple clothing, a small social footprint of contacts whose contacts spiralled out into the web of knowledge it drew from. That was the way to do things—become invisible. It was also why they were such a good bounty hunter. 

Leave the flash to someone else. 

What good was it when your quarry knew you were coming? Silence, stillness, the slow stalking, the careful preparations, these things were its favourite. It wasn’t all about the money, which was a considerable sum, it was about the hunt. These days it mattered little as long as it could hunt properly. Everyone left clues. _Everyone._ And this Jedi woman, her clues would be there somewhere in the maze of information pathways on the HoloNet. Namita Jin had left them codes to search through imperial databases as well but that had not yielded anything but searches that had wound up with nothing but stardust and rumour. Bases had been levelled, planets torn apart, but the trail had gone cold on Jedi sightings, none of which had been recent.

Still, it dug back further back to when Jedi hunting and execution was more prevalent as the _Great Jedi Purge_ was happening in the days and years after Senator Sheeve Palpatine declared himself Emperor. All it had to go on was _female_ and _Jedi_ but again, rumours.

How disappointing.

The more information about this Jedi it could find, the easier capture could and would be. Namita Jin could not give very much information, which meant it was going to have to travel to the wintry world that the woman had been on such a short time ago. It was not relishing the thought at all but it would aid the job and the job was a holy thing. It gave everything, comfort, food, shelter, and entertainment.

Many times, it had wondered if it was good or bad but decided it was neither, it was just doing its job as a hunter. Prey was prey no matter what it was, and besides, this one was not to be terminated. Only captured. It thought this was curious for an assassin to wish but they were the client, what they needed out of a bounty was their wish. If the woman had wanted to eat the Jedi, it would not be _its_ problem. The only problem it was going to have was in locating the source of the records it had heard rumours about—the medical ones.

It stopped at a bar somewhere in the Outer Rim, somewhere unpleasant to its own tastes, and spoke with a few patrons who gave it information and a few more contacts who might help it, then travelled to the last place Namita Jin had been with her forces. It was indeed a wintry landscape but it found the derelict laboratory. The plantlife Namita Jin had described was dead but the systems were still online, if on their last fading power cycle. It was lucky it had gotten here when it did.

There would be information here, perhaps not useful, perhaps not to many but it would take anything that might lead to its quarry. That was part of its hunt. Scraps of information tended to become part of a whole, after all, but until then, they would be simple parts of the puzzle.

There were no names, only dates in the record. It had been activated nineteen years before the Battle of Yavin and the fall of the Empire. The sleep cycle had been disrupted a few days ago but the coolant leak had begun years before with a line rupture. It had been nearly thirty years the Jedi woman had slept. The technology would have kept her without age but any damage would have remained for her to heal once she was out of cold sleep. This, it understood, was different than regular suspended animation.

Interesting.

It would confirm the earlier records of a woman being admitted into Mon Calamari care which meant information in favour of finding a station close by, though it knew of none such as of yet. This was still the Outer Rim with the uncharted systems close at hand. A Mon Calamari run medical facility would need to be hidden neatly indeed, _if_ it was the sort of thing that would be hidden in the first place. Since the information had been easy to access from the start, it was probably not, though probability could be tested. 

It was a shame there was no recorded audio or readings from the lab itself, they would have been a valued contribution. All it had was vitals and some environmental sound logs, things that were set to be sent into disposable dump files. That was not so bad, really. There were all sorts of things it could put into its database for that. 

First, though, it would see about finding this medical station. Thankfully courses could be calculated by droids, though if needed, it could do it just as well. It was just mathematics and astrophysics, easy things for a quick and agile mind.

It was time to calculate and seek, with proper nourishment, of course. It required caf, clearly, and space and time to complete the search.

Calculation narrowed it down to several different systems, as well as a few sectors it had not considered. It marked two of the most likely places and set a course into the hyperdrive navigation system. The first system yielded nothing useful but the third place it checked gave it a small medical station with Mon Cala design. It was exactly what it needed.

It turned its ship and headed for the station and its quarry.

The hunt was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneaking a chapter to you all.
> 
> xxx  
> R.W. Winters


	25. Between the Lines

_We are one and apart._

The Force was with them and they were part of it, each one of the Force-sensitive clones got a better sense of it as Arha instructed them, quietly waiting for what the Council would decide. They were potential Jedi, each with their own strengths. Would they go to the creche to learn, would they be too old to try? Would they continue to fight by her side, learning from her? Light knew she couldn’t bear to see them separated.

Her anxieties were not helping _her_ meditate and with her nascent students meditating with her, she let the Force in to soothe her thoughts into something more constructive than worrying about her men. They were all sitting in a circle, eyes closed, breathing easily, letting go, and, notably, Bracer and Stats were so very gently brushing at her mind. Bracer was a little more aggressive and Stats kept gently bumping up against her presence and all the clones were warm and bright around her. There was peace, here.

It made her smile and it made _her_ feel at peace, secure in their presence. These men were hers and she loved them unconditionally for as long as they would live and beyond. It wasn’t possessive, that idea of love she found abhorrent, but it was bright and warm and _good_. And it was a partnership. They learned from each other, grew with each other, just as they fought and trained for battle beside one another.

While her Force-sensitive vode needed different training, she’d not leave the other men out. Some techniques were applicable whether sensitive to the Force or not. Not one man would be left thinking he was lesser—or better—than another. It was a talent, like Killshot’s sniping or the compassion that Tranq showed to his patients, Mountain’s strength and gentleness, or Brick’s leadership skills. Each and every one of her soldiers were unique and their talents made for a tight, cohesive unit. Those who were Force-sensitive were just honing their skills, different skills.

“No matter what happens,” she told them quietly, sensing their mood shift as hers had done. “Even if we are separated for a while, you’re my squad, and you will find your way back. I _will_ fight for you as your Jetii and I will never abandon you.”

“You really will,” Bracer said, his voice soft. “I can—” He stopped and she felt him reach out to her again, stronger this time. “I can _tell_.” 

Stats made a soft noise, then Brick and Tranq opened their eyes, almost bewildered. They, too, could feel it, the rightness of her words, her stalwart conviction. It wasn’t something projected consciously but her sincerity was loud in the Force. She would care for them, fight for them, give them all of her support when they needed it because it was the right thing to do. 

Some Jedi would not—their methods would be different, they would treat their men like soldier toys, scattering them into battle without a care. Arha only knew that her command would be different, _compassionate_. That they were going to be a different unit. 

While they might see action, they’d be the ones to stay behind and help rebuild, she knew it like she knew the backs of her hands. _That_ was the truth of the Force in her momentary vision, she thought. Master Yoda was at the Council fighting for them as she had done hours ago, pleading her case, _their_ cases. They were her men to guide, hers to inspire and lead as their Commander.

“We will be different,” she murmured. “Once we get our chance. I have never been more sure.”

-*-

It was many hours later when Master Yoda’s shadow cast its way in front of her, his eyes gleaming in the lowered light of her rust, blue, and white decorated room. Her men had gone ages ago to regular training and to rest but she had stayed in meditation, her red-gold hair free and tumbling down her shoulders in bright ringlets to her waist. 

“Well you did to enumerate the challenges and solutions you would have for your Force-sensitive clones,” Yoda said calmly as he took a seat before her. Tea awaited him, as usual, fresh and hot. “Agreed to let you train, the Council has. _My_ supervision subject to will you be.”

He tapped his cane lightly, almost thoughtfully.

“An easy task, young one, this will not be. But persevere you will with help.”

She poured him tea, sweeping her long blue sleeve back just-so, just as he’d instructed her many years prior. Arha smiled with all the joy in her and it lit her entire being up with the Force. The fragrant tea steamed as she offered Master Yoda his cup and poured one for herself.

“The Force said as much,” she murmured gently. “It was a small vision when you came before the Council while the men and I were meditating. Bracer is excellent at reaching out and touching my mind to confirm the truth of my words. He’s also very quick to refine new skills. Stats is not far behind. Captain Brick and our medic, Tranq, are slower but they all have a link together and with me.”

She closed her eyes to sip the tea and its sweetness was refreshing.

“I can sense them even now, Master. The bond is different than the one we have, I think. It’s instinctive and solidifying.”

“Hrmm,” Master Yoda said. “Strong you are in the Force, compassionate. Create ties in the Force, you do. _Bonds_ to others, yes. Attachments they are not but something else. Mountain and Killshot, feel resentment do they?”

“No, Master Yoda. I feel nothing but their contentment as part of their brotherhood. They see their brothers as having developed new skills, as is the case. I include them in everything we do, Force related or not. Learning to support their vode in different ways, I think, will be a good challenge for them. Master?” His ears quirked a little. 

“Are my bonds dangerous? Or are they useful?”

“Your men acutely you feel. Their loss, perhaps as well. Danger in attachment lies only when let go you cannot. Beware _that_. Save them always you cannot. Live long, they cannot. Be ready to let go, you must. Too, _they_ must when time it is.”

She closed her eyes in sudden weariness. It was a heavy burden to bear but she would bear it for all of them and she would love them for as long as she could. That was the way she did things. Master Yoda knew that as well.

For a long while neither of them moved, caught in a soundless communing as they sipped tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love her clones and really love writing her talking with Master Yoda. So much.
> 
> Please comment and kudooo, it is the fuel that helps me keep on writing, that's for sure.
> 
> xxx,  
> R.W. Winters


	26. Interludes

_There is no up or down, only forward._

The loth-cat stayed. He was going with loth-cat, now, just from the face, and he was _not_ naming it. He refused. It ate whatever he brought back for it, drank water when it pleased, and used Arha as a napping spot because it could.

The staff laughed. They laughed an awful lot at the Mandalorian and his friend with a surprise loth-cat. _Things_ started showing up like a litter box, toys from small crawling things to little droids with lasers to chase. Din accidentally tripped over one in the middle of the night and swore. It had blipped obscenities back at him and scuttled away. 

He’d nearly shot it. 

Twice.

“I didn’t need a pet,” he grumbled, flicking his eyes to the ceiling as if the kriffing answer was written up there to _why_. “I didn’t need the droid toys either.”

No one was listening, he knew that. His fingers curled into a fist and released, then he took a breath and released that. It made him a little calmer, less irritated but he knew he was more occupied with Arha’s wellbeing.

In space, there was no such thing as morning or night but he still felt tired around the same time, he still slept and rose at the same time. And he did research on what he could in the meantime. Sometimes, he took jobs. Small ones. Easy ones. But he always came back to sit at Arha’s side.

Her fingers curled around his a few times. His heart had leapt into his throat and tried to crawl out but her readings stayed the same. The healers, the doctors and nurses told him she was in some sort of healing trance. He dreamt of her often, reached out to her even more, tried that jetii stuff, like meditating, even. 

The loth-cat sat in his lap when he tried that. He put it on the bed but it wouldn’t stay. Eventually, he gave up and it was him and the cat on the floor _meditating_. Well, the cat was purring. Maybe that was cat for meditation. What did he know about loth-cats? Nothing, that’s what.

He dreamed of her again and this time, it was _right_.

-*-

“Din!” He caught her as she threw herself into his arms, somehow able to sense him as much as he moved to catch her. She was dressed in fire-vine silk, the blue of it making her eyes almost glow. It had been days since she’d been this vibrant, this alive, this… _tangible_. He could feel the warmth of her hands as she touched his face with her fingertips, her thumbs brushing his lips gently to get a sense of his emotions. All she would find was relief and concern.

“You’re alright,” he asked, “wherever you are?”

“I’m alright,” she said, her voice whisper-soft. “I’m healing slower than I’d like but I’m—I’ll be okay. I needed actual rest.”

He froze. Her fingers caught the shift in emotion and she tucked herself a little closer. It was still cold and she shivered against him a little.

“I was keeping you awake?”

“It’s…more like diverting power. There are things I’m working on fixing and it’s…Oh—” Her fingers touched his hair, the curl of it at the back of his neck. _He_ shivered. “Hush, you’ve done no harm.”

“I haven’t?” he asked slowly, carefully, every line of him tight as she cupped his cheeks as if she could _see_ him. He knew she couldn’t. Her eyes never met his, they were always a little off. Of all times to think about his helmet and someone seeing him, of breaking his creed, he just wanted her awake and to see him clearly. To—to _know_ that he was there and that he wasn’t leaving or giving up on her. Out of everyone, she deserved to be safe. 

_Like Grogu_.

“I’ve been minimising my presence, masking it, it’s nothing you’ve _done_.” She draped herself against him and he let out a sigh. She touched him so much and it felt so good that he let himself savour the contact even if this was a dream. Her lips pressed gently against his neck, her nose against his jawline as she hugged him tight. “I’m here. I’m still here with you.”

_You’re not alone_.

It was what they both were saying in different ways, what they both needed. Contact. That need of confirmation that though everything in the whole universe had gone sideways, they weren’t alone in it. Grogu came to mind every time and his heart ached _every_ time. But here he was, with Arha, not alone in his loss or his grief. He knew she understood, somehow. Maybe through the kriffing Force. It was bigger than just him, just them. But it was also just the right size right _now_.

He hugged her back and there was relief in it.

-*-

When he came to himself again the loth-cat was curled up in Arha’s hair and his knees ached. His left foot was also solidly asleep and his back felt abused but he knew Arha was okay and steadily making progress. Slow progress but progress nonetheless. 

She was Jetii, supposedly an enemy, and yet he had never felt more comforted or supported than with her. How could _she_ be an enemy? The more he walked this path, the more he wondered how much of the Way was correct. 

It _hurt_ to think about. The Way was a life creed, something important to his culture but as Bo-Katan had said he found himself a member of an extremist group called Death Watch. And he had also found himself in situations that challenged his perceptions and understanding of the world around him. He’d shown his face for his son more than once, he’d risked his life for the foundling time and again. 

What did that mean for the future? What did that mean _now_ with Arha? He rose with a soft groan, touching his helmet for a moment.

It would stay put for now.

This was the Way.


	27. Shadow Movements

_One misfortune is as miserable as another._

Bay 1150, room 29.

That’s how easy it was once it sliced into the mainframe. It was tomb quiet in the medical station, each bay and room shielded from noise as it moved down the corridors, dressed as one of the nurses with a key card that could access anything. Why stop at regular patient access when you could have everything without alerting anyone? It had one of those faces, the ones that slip so easily beneath the humdrum of ordinary, a face people see and forget immediately. 

It was no changeling, not like aliens who could manipulate face and body, but neither was it _human_. The alterations to its basic form were gained in part surgically. The kind it had paid for many years ago through the use of alteration, facial tailoring for the most part. It had been worth every bit of currency that had been exchanged. It had proper modulation boxes for a variety of looks. Nothing was left to chance, it was as invisible as a bipedal humanoid could be.

Vocal mimicry had always been a skill and this day’s was a softly pleasant soprano voice. It was soothing, gentle, completely harmless, completely trustworthy—as it should be. As it _had_ to be in order for this ruse to work.

“Gentle, may I help you find your way?” a Mon Calamari nurse asked, blinking his large silver eyes.

“I’m headed here,” it said softly, pointing to the datapad. “The patient needs fluid, a position change, and to be taken to have muscle stimulation. At least that’s what my instructions say, see?”

“So they do. You’re not quite there yet, just keep going. Your key card should give you proper access. Please be very quiet for this particular room. There is a loth-cat that is asleep in it, too.”

A loth-cat? Well, that certainly was odd. Its eyebrows went up. There were always complications.

“Do not worry about the bounty hunter, he’s gone for the moment out on a mission. All he asks for is that we care for the woman appropriately and let nothing happen to her while she’s in our care.”

“Of course,” it said, smiling pleasantly. Alas, it was going to have something terrible for them in the coming hours. Its employer required the woman alive, unharmed, and intact. That was what was going to happen.

Quietly.

Without alarm. What good would all the fuss do the other patients recovering? It was not a horrible creature after all, it had compassion when the situation called for it. This was one thing, first and foremost, _a job_ and a hunt that had been fun while it lasted. Coming from the smallest of intelligence on the subject to the fruition of its labours was most satisfying. 

Most satisfying, indeed.

The fact that there was a bounty hunter already in possession of the woman made it wonder why he hadn’t turned her in already. The bounty was considerable, after all, and by _considerable_ it meant a more than decent fortune. The biggest problem it foresaw was if the woman woke but there was Carbonite for that and its ship was outfitted for that need. It would certainly be easier with an incapacitated quarry. Quieter, safer, and more efficient.

The bounty hunter sighed and shook its head a little.

It was also a little boring, like bringing a package from point to point in a system. It entered the suite with as little sound as possible to find a red-haired woman curled up on her side on one of the beds, her life signs stable, and draped in a cape. The bounty hunter’s cape, no doubt, considering it made her look very small.

The cat was nowhere to be seen, though somewhere in the front room, it was purring away obliviously used to the comings and goings of nurses and doctors alike.

It rearranged her on her back, hands folded, her wild hair tamed as much as possible in careful braids someone else had put in. Then, it disconnected the leads and wires, setting everything on standby, before wheeling bed out. Her lightsabers lay on the small table separating the two beds, one slowly rocking ever so slightly. Though, if it was being honest, everything made the woman seem small and fragile.

It fulfilled the orders because whisking her away before they were completed would be stupid and invite trouble, so she got a fluid refresh and a muscle stimulation before it neatly took a detour to its ship. 

She weighed almost nothing when it picked her up into its arms. Her head lolled to the side as it disappeared into its ship and prepped the Carbonite before walking the bed back to the room. There was no sense in making more work for people saving lives. It wished it did not have to go through with this bounty in some ways but it had its reasons. There was no killing on this one, it was just a hand-over job, without a dead or alive tag on it. Why should it care what the woman was wanted for? The remaining dregs of the Empire had nothing to do with it. 

Alive, perhaps, was a good sign.

It had need for the money, dire need if it were to save the small ones of its clan, its family. One woman was worth it, she had to be, but it did not have to be unkind about it. The Carbonite was a little unpleasant but it was no worse than the cryotank the woman had been found in and definitely more portable.

Once the quick cycle was ready, it carefully positioned her and let the flash Carbonite complete its cycle. She looked serene locked in Carbonite and ready for transfer—much better than some bounties. The lights on the side said it was strong and viable. Its equipment was maintained with meticulous care, of course. With its work finished on the medical station, it began to power up its systems.

It was time to collect and bid farewell to this sector.


	28. Chasing the Light

_In war, moments of stillness are rare._

The Separatists left ruin in the wake of their war. Planets were scarred, people murdered as targets, and in the wake of battle. Light, but it was so difficult to stand in the aftermath of the war zone, searching for survivors, helping to gather the fallen—theirs and civilians, the multitude of droid parts—and not feel deeply about it.

It wasn’t hate, it was bone-weary loss, sadness, as Arha looked out across the once golden, flower-speckled fields of a world that had not asked for war. Like Felucia and thousands of other planets. They had been fighting for peace and what they had gotten with each win was another ravaged planet and terrified citizens. 

So many orphans, she thought, gently rocking a child she’d rescued a few days prior. The night air was warm, still a little acrid from smoke but getting better as they helped the locals tame the devastation. She felt Bracer’s presence behind her and leaned back into him for comfort, letting a deep breath out.

“General,” he murmured. “The little one down?”

“For now,” Arha said, her voice very soft so as not to wake the child. “I hope for a decent night’s sleep this time. We’ll bring her back to Temple when we leave. I heard her cry out in the Force. It’s the only reason she’s with us.”

He made a soft sound and wrapped his arms around her, warm and solid and _alive_. Even in the aftermath of war there was hope in the life of a single child surviving, Force-sensitive or not. She felt the knot of his emotion in her mind and reached to soothe him with the touch of hers.

He smiled as she moved and walked alongside her as they bundled the girl, Lelila, up and laid her to rest for the night in her own cot. Bracer stayed with Arha without comment, a steady presence. She looked up at him for a long while as they stood outside of her quarters and leaned into him again.

“This war, Bracer,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his chest. “Its cost is so great.”

“War is all I know,” he said softly, his arms a gentle cage around her. “You’re my jetii, my general, my friend, and all I want to do is to protect you from all of this.”

“I wish you could, too,” she said in a very small voice. “When the war is over, we will all heal and there will be time enough.”

Her fingers touched his cheek gently.

“Until then,” Arha whispered, “we must find the still spaces between and cherish them.” His hands were full of her hair as she let him take her weight. The war had pulled them closer, had pulled them all closer, but especially Bracer. Sometimes, there was fighting—leftover droids, traps sprung—and he never left her side. The others would range but Bracer stayed behind to protect her, even though she could protect herself. 

They made a good team, they always had. It was obvious he loved her and she loved him as much as she was able, as much as she could. The weight of being a General was heavy, so heavy these days. No one talked about it, not the other Jedi Generals, not their men. No one talked about the weight of war. But it was there in the Force, there in the ravaged worlds, there in the unending suffering, she saw day after day.

He held her.

And then he scooped her up in his arms and took her inside. She let him without protest, relaxing against him, letting him do the work of crossing the room to her cot.

She was his jetti, his friend. His valiant General who was not made of stone, who loved everything from the trees to every person she saw. She was made to heal and lift up those around her, and she did, but even she had to rest and recover. Her fingers curled at the fabric of his uniform and her mind gently bumped against his like a mental Keldabe Kiss.

He worked his armor off carefully, stacking it within reach, then quietly told Captain Brick he was staying with the General for the evening. Brick acknowledged with a soft huff but said nothing else. If it was a rough evening, Bracer usually stayed.

He made tea out of habit, bringing her a small cup in both hands. It made them look larger than they were and the cup smaller.

“Try this,” he said quietly, placing the cup into her waiting hands before getting his own and joining her on the cot. She thanked him in a soft, careful voice. Outside, a thunderstorm rolled past. Closing her eyes, she could hear the _pat, pat, pat_ of it as Bracer wrapped an arm around her. Again, she leaned into him and the tension in her body eased.

“Alright?” he asked after a while.

“No,” she admitted, draining her cup after a long silence, “but I will be.” He pressed his cheek against her hair as she snuggled up against him. “Are you?”

“I have to be,” he said with a soft frown. “That’s how I was engineered.”

She set her cup down and her fingers caught against his bottom lip as his eyes opened. He kissed them gently and smiled.

“Jetii,” he said very gently, “I am better every day, knowing you. You’re what I need in this war, in this _life_. You _are_ the Light of the Force and I can feel it through you in ways I never dreamed. Just sitting here, _kriffit_ I—”

He kissed her, then, his lips warm and right against hers. Perhaps it was more of a wonder that she kissed him back without a shred of hesitation, her hands in his hair, her lips against his neck and jawline.

“I know,” she whispered. “Bracer, I _know_.” She was not a General, he was not a clone in this moment. They were two people who needed release, comfort, joy, to feel life instead of war and loss. 

Master Yoda’s words about knowing when to let go came to her and she knew he was right. They would have to let go of each other eventually.

But that moment had yet to come.


	29. Hope In the Night

_Never give up hope or grow you will not._

Din had spent too much time on the last chase. It felt like years before he had returned his bounty and gotten back to the medical station. He was greeted by the trembling form of the Mon Calamari nurse with silver eyes and knew immediately something was wrong.

“She’s missing!” the nurse said, his wide eyes even wider. “One of the nurses took her for physical therapy and after that she was gone. I am so _sorry_. The logs indicate her bed was moved and wound up in the docking bay but was returned to her room later.”

“Let me see the tapes,” he said, quashing the alarm that had been rising since he before he’d set foot on the station. It took them a while to get through the last few hours but Din found and tracked the nurse back and forth easily enough. All of the credentials put into the system checked out, which probably meant some serious slicing capability. There were no clear shots of the nurse’s face. They had either gotten lucky or had studied the camera placement beforehand. 

It had to be a skilled bounty hunter if they’d tracked them to this particular station. Now, he’d have to do the same, tracking them, gathering information, because everyone left a footprint somewhere. He’d find her again.

He _had_ to find her again, to wake her up, to pull her from the dream and back where she belonged. If he was honest, he knew where she was going—to the Empire. Only they could be behind the bounty hunter call. It had been the same with Grogu, hadn’t it? There was a death sentence on Arha’s head just for being Jedi as far as the Empire was concerned and there were still some who’d carry it out.

He wasn’t— He couldn’t let her die in some experimental testing room or at the end of blaster rifle, especially after so many years hiding away from just that sort of end. No, he was going to track them down straight to the Empire, even if he needed help getting her out. Cara was probably always going to be in for an operation like that. Maybe this wasn’t a _Grogu_ situation but Arha was needed. Her light was needed, even if they’d have to run.

Would she have to sit where Grogu sat when Moff Gideon’s forces came for him? Would Luke Skywalker come for her, too? Ideally, Skywalker was the best candidate to help free Arha but that was another tracking mission and would take time. Maybe too much time. He stood in front of her empty bed and frowned beneath his helmet before gathering her lightsabers and the stupid loth-cat, who put up a fuss yelling until he picked her up. She sat on his shoulder and he sighed, gathering necessities for the trip. Two toys came with and the litter box, which was self-cleaning at least. The cat got one of the empty rooms and seemed pleased with its new domain.

Din’s fingers curled around Arha’s lightsabers tightly as he walked back to the _Star Razor_ and strapped in, powering up the systems and punching in the first set of coordinates. Fuel only lasted so long before it ran out and someone would have seen the bounty hunter’s craft land to refuel. He flicked a few switches and left the medical station behind him in a flash of light as he went to hyperspace.

~*~

He touched down with care on the third world he’d calculated a jump to feeling weary and worried and irritated with himself for not finding her immediately. Or coming back soon or a thousand other things that his mind kept wandering off to in an attempt to rationalise his fears. She wasn’t _gone_. He refused to even entertain the thought but his thoughts kept straying toward darker fears until he did what he had to—treat her like a bounty and stuff emotions away.

Logically, there were only a few places the other hunter could have stopped for fuel and he was right to follow them. Right now, this was reconnaissance only, information gathering. He wondered if Boba and Fennec would even entertain the idea of going after a Jedi held by the Empire. 

Probably not.

But Cara would. And Skywalker. It always came back to Skywalker but how did he get to the man? How did he contact someone he didn’t even know how to reach? It was frustrating because he knew, he _knew_ he was going to need the other Jedi’s support if he wanted to see Arha Masaari alive. Why she had contacted him and not the only other Jedi left was still something of a mystery to him. It didn’t make _sense_ even with Arha telling him he was Force-sensitive.

Din paid for a full diagnostic and repair, just to make sure the _Star Razor_ was working at full capacity and then made sure that included a refuel before heading down to a cantina to take in the local gossip. Chances were, someone had seen something, and finding that person was always a challenge.

“Have you seen this ship?” he asked, holding up a holo and flicking it on. He was not having much luck. “Or this woman?”

The alien, who was fast approaching inebriated, gurgled, lurched, and fixed its many eyes on the ship and Arha’s face, then gurgled again before hacking and pointing at the ship.

“It is sstill in the yard, yess,” it hissed. “Needed partss, refueling. A robed figure met with a woman lasst night. I ssaw the puck. The ssweet woman’ss face, yesss. They are sstill in thiss town for now. Look for a woman with white hair and green eyess. Sshe did not hide. Be careful. I ssensse not all iss as it sseemss.”

He pushed a few decent credits across the bar.

“For your trouble.”

“Thankss, Mandalorian,” the alien sighed. “Good luck be upon you.”

Din stood, scanning the room for a robe-wearing humanoid and a woman with white hair but found no one. But they were here in this town, somewhere.

He needed to find the ship first and place a tracker on it somewhere it wouldn’t be found just in case the bounty hunter got spooked and blew the planet for the comfort of space. Din ducked out of the cantina and made his way to the repair and docking yards in search of the ship—and Arha.


End file.
